


Born in Water

by helm



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, Insecurity, M/M, Slice of Life, and a little Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:03:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helm/pseuds/helm
Summary: Sometimes it takes a terrifying encounter (or two) with a kraken for a pirate and a prince to really settle down for good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This mostly takes place in a canon-adjacent Storybrooke where nobody dies and the timelines are all wacky, but does begin in the Enchanted Forest, where I have chosen to ignore some canonical events and parts of the worldbuilding in the realms, hence the Canon Divergence tag. There are also background ships in this story that do not significantly change the plot, so I’ve left them untagged so as not to clutter those filters. The Explicit rating is for chapters two and three, which will be up in the next few days.
> 
> This story is also a monstrously self-indulgent piece of work. There’s definitely magic involved here, but large portions of this are just a slice of life story about two guys reconciling what they want in a relationship and being brave enough to be truthful with each other, and with other people. 
> 
> **Content Warnings:** This story does contain a character who struggles at times with being comfortable about being out, so please proceed with caution if this is a sore subject for you. I promise there’s no self-hate. Please also proceed with caution if you have issues with the idea of drowning, as there’s points of this story that address such with varying amounts of detail (though please note the lack of a character death tag).
> 
> Thanks for reading; I hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> _And I wanted to get you smiling_  
>  _And maybe once in awhile you could try_  
>  _And maybe[let your red heart show](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L0T99pzZFzU)_

It all starts long before this. Quite possibly it starts the very first time Charming lands his eyes on the wanted poster of a pirate on some sidestreet of his kingdom, rough sketch doing no justice to someone who could only be defined in-person as dashing, churning up all the butterflies in the prince’s iron stomach. Maybe it starts when Hook first hears the story about a prince so impossibly likable that they called his charm magical, and he lies through his teeth to Smee about his aversion to magic and demands that they visit this kingdom, already captivated.

But both of those moments in time were years ago, so here it all starts with two fools in a rowboat propelling themselves across a large lake somewhere in the Enchanted Forest. Above them, even in the daytime, the stars shine.

Behind them, past the shoreline, is the mainland they came from and the overgrown path that eventually winds its way back to Charming’s castle. From there you can follow another path down to the kingdom’s harbor where the _Jolly Roger_ sits anchored, currently under the ownership of a group of haughty nobles too busy patting themselves on the back to notice that Hook has already escaped from his jail cell.

Ahead of them, half a lake away, is another shoreline belonging to an island with a sloping sandy beach and a dense packet of trees towards the center. It’s foreign to Charming, same as the shoddy brushtrail from his kingdom to here had been, and he can’t help but wonder what else lay undiscovered in his kingdom. Well-trained and brave knight though he may be, he’d never had much reason to roam the forest in search of secluded islands before he met Hook.

The water ripples with the movement of the oars as Hook rows, one gripped normally and the other pierced through with his legendary namesake, working in a practiced tandem. Through the ripples, Charming tries to peer all the way down to the bottom of the lake but can’t. Below them, there are schools of fish bobbing and weaving between each other as if doing some sort of dance or strange ritual, and the depth of the lake is indiscernible. He’s looking for a pattern in the movement when Hook clears his throat.

Charming pulls his gaze away from the mystery and back to the well-explored sturdy form of Hook, just to find that he’s staring and grinning at him the same way he has been the entire half-length of the trip so far. It’s a look of both lust and longing, and it _is_ flattering, but Charming is embarrassed by the flush of red that comes to his cheeks so easily when he thinks of his mouth pressed to Hook’s just before he had been guided into the rowboat. He turns his head downward instead, locking on to the wicker basket between them. He’s slightly tense and feels ashamed of it, as Hook looks so at ease, so he speaks. “Does this one have a name?”

“The picnic basket or the rowboat?” Hook asks, taking joy in the long-suffering sigh that accompanies Charming’s incredibly endearing frown. “She does, my love. This is the _Arousal_. I call her that because the waters are _flush_ with her as I beat her mighty oars against them.”

Charming tilts his head in disgust and exhales heavily at what he clearly thinks is a bad joke, but there’s a moment before that when his eyes meet Hook’s and he’s obviously smiling, and at the end of his groan there’s definitely a chuckle. Across his collarbone, just barely showing, Hook can see the signs of the loving bite marks he left on Charming as they stomped through brush and branches to get here. “I guess it’d be inappropriate to call her _The Sex Dinghy I Take My Secret Lovers On_.”

“Doesn’t have the same ring,” Hook agrees, but he has an eyebrow quirked, like something about that sentence was more interesting than Charming realized. “Besides, not every pirate ship needs a name as endearingly obvious as my _Jolly Roger_.”

“You think _Arousal_ is subtle?” Charming laughs, almost unbelieving of the caricature of a gentleman Hook likes to portray. But he keeps laughing, smiling, and holding Hook’s gaze now, which is leaps and bounds better than the discomfort that’s bordered him ever since he stole away from his castle with an escaped convict in broad daylight.

Hook gives him a smile as big and bold as he is, one that he learned from watching Charming smile the same way in his company. “I’m afraid nothing about me is subtle, love. Well, except for my jailbreaks. Amazing, really, that you would have locks so easily picked by my hook. I’d suggest you fix that if it weren’t likely that I’d be returning at some point.”

And there’s the kick, because there’s a reason that being with Hook makes him feel like he’s breaking most of his own rules, along with all of his father’s. “What am I gonna tell them? I went for a day trip with our captured pirate because I was desperate to get fucked?” There’s a short, slightly bitter laugh from the other end of the rowboat. “I’m serious, Hook. I can’t tell them you kidnapped me. It couldn’t have been hard for someone to see us leaving together. And if they believed me, you’d be hanged.”

“Well if someone did see us they surely thought better than to say anything,” Hook says. He gives a gesture that would likely look more like a shrug if he didn’t have his hook pierced through one of the oars. “We’d have been chased down by know if they knew either of us was missing. We’ve got some time, why not enjoy it with me?”

“I’m the _prince_ ,” Charming says, as if it explains exactly why he can’t enjoy anything.

“Well you don’t _have_ to be,” Hook counters, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You know I’m more than capable of rescuing my crew and stealing the _Jolly Roger_ back. So you don’t go back to the castle, to being the prince. You come with me instead. It’d save me the trouble of getting arrested half the time I try and take you on a date.”

Charming already knows his answer but can’t spit it out, so he does his best to keep his smile and look like he’s thinking hard about it. “Life on the open seas? With you?”

“Sounds positively _charming_ , doesn’t it?” Hook already knows Charming’s answer too; this is something they’ve had time to discuss before, but it can’t hurt to try. “It would surely beat only seeing each other twice a year, for fear of me getting, as you said, _hanged_. And we could see every imaginable corner of the world too, together. All the parts you can’t see from your ridiculously high castle windows.”

Charming exhales something that might’ve been a laugh if he didn’t feel so much like he was the one playing the bad guy here. “It’s not possible, Hook. I have a kingdom to care for and people to look after. My father intends for it to be mine soon,” he adds, when Hook opens his mouth to give his typical _you’re just the prince at the moment_ response. “You understand that, right?”

“The kingdom’s overrated if you ask me.” Hook waves his good hand in the air in dismissal, forcing Charming to grab the oar so that it doesn’t slip overboard.

“You only say that because the people don’t like you, same as they don’t like all the other lawless pirates who harass our seas.” Hook looks unimpressed at the statement, but they both know it’s not an insult. “They _like_ me.”

“People in power are always liked. I would know, I’m a captain.” Charming frowns slightly, a little disrespected, and Hook backpedals. “You’re a wonderful prince, love, but I’m saying that _I_ like you despite your title, which is saying quite a lot actually. That’s why I think you should trade your castle for a cabin on my ship. My cabin, if that wasn’t clear.”

Which it was. But the rest of it was murky. There’s evidence enough to suggest that the people in the kingdom did like him beyond his title, as his moniker shows, but would that change if he became the king and had to be the bearer of displeasure that his father often was? Or could he be a better king than dear old dad? Again, signs point to yes, but could he really believe that if here he was, betraying his people by happily engaging in a secret tryst with a known and feared pirate?

The thought of a life with Hook was something that Charming had considered many times before, but in those cases it was always him reining in the pirate and somehow making _that_ work. He’d be the king. Hook would be his… prince consort, or whatever they would call it. And somehow everyone would be happy, even though there’s no way Hook would ever settle down into that life in actual fact. Plus those fantasies skipped all the rough parts where he had to tell his father and then everyone else in the kingdom that he was marrying aforementioned known and feared pirate.

It would be a lot easier to just steal away into the endless seas with Hook and his crew, but then he’d be betraying himself _and_ his duty. The whole thing’s a mess, because there’s no way to be with Hook and still do right by everyone he knows. But he’s come to that conclusion fifty times before and still waits patiently for Hook’s return to port, ignoring all of the favor his father attempts to curry with the heirs to other kingdoms for him.

Silence falls between them as Charming doesn’t answer, and they begin to approach the island’s shore, angled toward a tiny dock that mirrors the one the _Arousal_ had been tied to on the mainland. Charming does his best to look everywhere but at Hook, imagining the fallout of both scenarios and then the third one where he gives Hook up and isn’t happy. Hook never takes his eyes off of Charming, and so notices when he scowls deeply.

“Almost there, now,” Hook says, quieter than usual, intent on calming the storm in Charming’s mind as always.

Charming meets his gaze again and visibly relaxes. The butterflies stir in the warm pit of his iron stomach, just as they did when he first met Hook.

Deep beneath them, something that was supposed to slumber beneath mountains of seaweed until the end of days also begins to stir.

//

“You know,” Hook begins to say as he’s walking across the dock, _Arousal_ tightly secured, toward where Charming stands on the sandy shoreline. “There’s a legend I heard about this lake that the waters are haunted. Home of a great sea beast, they say.”

Charming shoots Hook an irritated look, not finding the idea of sea beasts and terrifying legends enchanting him into a life on the high seas as a pirate-adjacent. “Had the sense to tell me that after we made it across one way but haven’t gone back, did you?”

“Figured now would be the best time to stop you from ditching me. Leaving me high and dry. Fleeing our date.” Hook says, all smile. Then, with emphasis: “ _Again_ , love.”

Charming side-steps the comment. “So I’m spending my day trapped on an island with a mad pirate, surrounded by waters housing a lake monster. Romantic.”

Hook picks up the wicker basket at Charming’s feet with his hook and entwines his good hand with one of Charming’s. “Such is life when you’re with me, I’m afraid. Come on. We’ve got food and a marvelous day, and I know just where to go.”

“And where would that be?” Charming asks, gesturing around to the embarrassment of a beach they’re standing on and then to the thick treeline. “This place isn’t as romantic as you made it sound when you were convincing me to come along.”

“I didn’t say this place was romantic, I said _I_ was being romantic when I came to save you from boredom.” Hook squeezes the hand he’s still holding, and after a moment Charming sighs. “Come on, love, I promise I do know the perfect spot. A hidden gem in the middle of an unexplored island in your kingdom? I know you’ve got enough adventuring spirit in you to know not to pass this up.”

And it’s true, because Charming is already fascinated by this place, and because he probably would’ve gone anywhere with Hook. “If this place is unexplored though, how do you know the perfect spot to go to?”

“A pirate knows all islands,” Hook says, grinning like he does. “Even the ones he hasn’t visited yet. Now come on, we’ve got places to be, and if the kingdom _does_ send people to look for us we don’t want to be standing out on the open beach, do we?”

“Right,” Charming nods. “Lead on then, captain.” He feels Hook shudder slightly at the term.

Hook brings them towards the treeline, which turns out to be mostly a front. The thick line of trees that blockaded the view of the inner parts of the island gives way to a more sparsely populated forest once within, and the two of them can see more than expected. The middle of the island mostly levels out from the slope up of the beach, leaving the area flat.

Towards the actual center of the island is where it gets interesting. There’s another body of water, almost like a smaller lake, sitting there, with a second piece of land in the middle of that. Standing on that miniature-island is an old lighthouse, stone weathered and covered in ivy tangles, with an extinguished beacon at the top.

“An island within an island,” Hook says, staring at it. “How about that?”

“It’s not an island,” Charming says, walking closer to the edge of the water. “Kind of letting the pirate name down now. This is a moat, the trench has been dug this way, see?” He points to the edges of the ground and looks at Hook, who shrugs.

“No experience with the nobleman stuff, love, but I believe you. That would make sense, sure, someone must’ve built this lighthouse.”

“But why would they want a lighthouse on an unmarked island with no ports, and why would you build it in the middle of the island?”

“Maybe it’s to watch for the sea monster,” Hook supplies, grinning when this causes Charming to shoot him another glare. “Could be for anything. I’d guess it was done by magic folk. You know how they are. They do what they want.”

“There’d be a recorded history of the monster _if_ it did exist, especially if they built a lighthouse to watch for it,” Charming says after a moment of staring up at the ivy-choked structure. He kneels down at the moat’s edge and tentatively dips a finger in, unsure of whether or not it has magical properties. “Kinda cold, and strangely full. I wonder how deep it is to stay like this.”

“Magic rainstorm,” Hook suggests.

Charming nods idly like he wasn’t really listening to the comment. He turns back to face Hook, smiling. “I think we should swim across and climb it.”

“You do?” Hook struggles to keep himself from sounding too surprised.

“Yeah, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. This is the perfect spot I was talking about, after all. I just thought it might take some convincing.”

“You’re lying, aren’t you?”

“Through my teeth, love,” Hook grins. “But don't despair. I’m quite happy that we’re about to take our first adventure on the high seas together.”

“It’s a moat,” Charming says, rolling his eyes but smiling. “And we don’t have a ship. Now strip down, captain. I doubt they’ll fit in the basket so we’ll leave our clothes here.”

“Oh how I adore this adventuring spirit you’ve adopted,” Hook says, gesturing first at Charming, who begins to undress, and then at himself with his hook. “But perhaps you’d be willing to assist me; I’d hate to get my hook stuck on my coat.”

“Do you regularly have your crew undress you, Hook? Should I be jealous?” Charming strips out of his pants as he says this, and the rush of flirting with a ‘dangerous’ character such as Hook fills him with joy.

“Not at all, my dear prince. I’m quite capable. More so than my crew, for sure. I just thought that you’d like the honor of proving your loyalty by assisting your captain.”

Charming finishes stripping down to his underclothes and carefully puts his royal raiment aside, away from the water’s edge. He comes face to face with Hook and keeps eye contact as he helps him shrug out of his coat from his good side first, and then slowly slides the leather over the other arm, away from the hook’s point. The vest comes next, clasps on the buckles undone and then it removed with similar caution.

“I’ve nothing on under my shirt, I’m afraid,” Hook says, though the buttons on his undershirt are open and the bare chest below it fairly obvious.

“You’ll have to go shirtless then,” Charming whispers, and then Hook leans into him for a kiss, which Charming returns, pleased. It’s like a normal kiss with Hook is: dangerous but subdued, like he’s waiting for the right moment to really let himself go, but you can feel the energy from the start. Charming grabs at Hook’s hips but then pulls away from the kiss, running his hands up to the shirt and starting to pull it off. “We can continue that after we explore the lighthouse. More undressing for the swim across now.”

Hook gives Charming a very lazy smile as he lets the prince do almost all of the work in removing his shirt and pants, leaving him standing just in his long johns. “Happy now?”

“Not really,” Charming admits. “I’ve just realized we might have to leave the picnic basket behind too.”

“Nonsense,” Hook says, waving his hook around. He moves to the water and sits, sliding in. The moat seems to be deep enough to come up to his chest, but he has no issues walking along the bottom. “A good captain would never let his crew go hungry. Pass me the basket.”

Charming does so, smiling as Hook balances it on his head with his good hand, and then slips into the water beside him. They wade across the twenty-foot moat with ease, though slightly chilled, and the basket stays dry the whole way. “My hero, captain.”

“Just the first of many great deeds we would do together if you’d consider my offer.”

“Don’t push your luck yet,” Charming says, but he’s still smiling. He looks up at the lighthouse without really taking it in, thoughts suddenly consumed by the idea of a life with Hook, away from the responsibilities of the kingdom and the nobility that he spent his entire life learning and tending to. To uproot himself, just like that, to be with a pirate? It was madness to think so, and yet the idea of having to watch Hook sail away again on his recaptured ship, knowing that his next return would be far more dangerous, was causing a deep sinking feeling to develop in his gut.

“Kinda shit lighthouse, if you ask me,” Hook chimes in, wrapping one arm around Charming’s shoulders. “Looks like the door’s, uh, missing though, if you want to climb it still?”

“I do,” Charming replies, but his mind’s still full of the thoughts of him escaping with Hook on his ship, and for a moment he’s not really sure what he’s agreeing to. Hook gestures forward, offering him the first look inside. “Right. Hopefully the stairwell isn’t crumbling.”

The inside of the lighthouse is actually immaculate beyond the doorway, as if it was preserved by whatever magic made it—which was starting to be the undeniable truth—rather than the outside. The stone of the stairs looks as though it was paved and sealed yesterday, with a solid wooden handrail sliding up the spiral to the top. The solid center of the lighthouse is painted with a set of murals depicting a few different scenes: a school of fish swims around a massive gray whale; five fairies dance with arms interlocked around a purple fire; a thundercloud passes over a flat plain that looks vaguely familiar to Charming; and then strangest of all, a man of noble clothing and a man in Hook’s pirate coat have lunch at the top of a lighthouse.

“That’s… eerie,” Charming offers after a moment, as both he and Hook study the last painting, almost to the top of the staircase.

“I’d agree, but that pirate has both of his hands. Must live a pretty boring, non-adventurous life.”

Charming thinks briefly of the life the two of them could have back at the castle, Hook going mad from boredom, but pushes it away. Not as though life in the palace would bring back his hand, after all. “Let’s eat,” he says after a moment more of staring at the mural.

“Here on the stairs?” Hook questions, prodding Charming’s back with the curve of his hook, causing him to start moving forward once more, not answering.

The top of the lighthouse is in markedly similar disrepair to the outside, with the glass broken from the surveillance deck and the massive beacon, shards long-since swept away by the wind. The foundation of the deck seems solid still, and the railing that encircles it still stands firm even when Hook pushes on it, though it’s rusty. There are some closed cabinets in the observation deck that Charming looks at with interest, but then his stomach growls and they both decide to take a seat on the edge of the deck and look out into the distance.

Which isn’t very far, as the circle of trees that seems to enclose the inner part of the island tower slightly over the top of the lighthouse, leaving a lot to be desired in the view.

“Right,” Hook says, laughing. “Nothing special to see here, I guess.”

But then there’s the sound of a loud bang and a crackle somewhere in the distance, and Charming almost drops his sandwich off the edge in his scramble to get up. They both attempt to see over the trees in the direction of the noise, but nothing is clear until the sky in that direction begins to light up with multicolored lights that burst, repeating the noise, and seem to form patterns and shapes.

“What kind of magic is that?” Hook asks, almost sounding concerned if not for his long-practiced unflappability.

Charming is not particularly versed in magic either, though, and the light show’s origin and purpose eludes him too. It continues for several moments, the lights forming shapes from triangles to complex snowflakes and even a few worldly objects like a raven and a crown. The last one causes them both to swallow with unease. “Do you think someone’s trying to tell us they know we’re here?”

“No,” Hook says, grabbing at Charming’s hand. “I think some young fairies, or witches, or _whoever_ are just having a little fun. We should ignore it.”

They don’t have to ignore it, however, as the lights cease once the crown dissipates, and no more noise comes from that direction of the forest. But neither of them feel comfortable sitting on the outskirts of the lighthouse any longer, and they move inside to the deck and eat in silence, pressed together at the shoulder.

//

“Hey,” Hook says, after the silence at lunch, noting Charming’s serious face. “What’re you so glum about? You usually save that face for when you’re telling me to stop being a pirate.”

And part of the truth is that Charming _is_ thinking about that. The mural on the wall and the light show’s crown both unnerve him, and make him think of home. His kingdom, where he would have to rule. It was out of the question to consider anything else, wasn’t it? There would be no heir to the throne without him, and nobody who would be king and rule with the sort of fairness and understanding the people as he would. To give Hook what he wanted…

Well, to give Hook what he wanted would make him both a pirate and a traitor to his people, and he couldn’t stomach that any easier than he could stomach the idea of a life without Hook.

“You keep asking me to consider a life on the high seas with you,” Charming says slowly, keeping direct eye contact with Hook again and catching the moment that his eyes narrow slightly and he frowns, knowing what’s coming next. “But I couldn’t abandon my people to be without a ruler.”

“Your father is the king,” Hook replies, and when Charming opens his mouth to counter that, he continues: “And I’m sure they could find a suitable replacement if you left, especially if you left sooner rather than later and gave them the time to do so.”

“But that replacement wouldn’t be _me_. I’m their Prince Charming, Hook. They want me as king.”

“And I want you at my side.”

“I want that too, so would it really be impossible for you to consider a life at the palace?” Hook’s frown intensifies, almost into a scowl. “I’m serious! You could be royalty, Hook, and have every treasure you could get from being a pirate _and_ me too. You could keep the _Jolly Roger_ , and I mean under your control, not impounded at the harbor like it currently is, and I’m sure we could help your crew if they wanted to stay instead of sailing off.”

“You’re asking me _and_ my crew to give up the life we chose for ourselves to be rehabilitated into some sort of nobleman’s fleet?”

“It’s not like that,” Charming says, and Hook’s frown does soften. “I know that it’s impossible to ask that of you, but it’s impossible for you to think that I’d be able to give up my life so easily either, even if the nobility was given to me rather than something I took for myself.”

Hook sighs, but puts an arm around Charming’s shoulders again. “I know. My first love is the sea, and yours is your people. Those are just unchangeable facts about who we are.”

Charming doesn’t feel brave enough in the moment to ask Hook if that means their relationship is doomed to be forever irreconcilable. Instead, he walks over to the closed cabinets and tugs on one handle, but it stays lodged in its position. “Wanna help me open these?”

“Ah,” Hook says, smile returning to his face. “You need my expert lockpicking skills, do you?”

“I’ve needed them all day. If you hadn’t so marvelously broken yourself out of jail, I wouldn’t have gotten to go on a date with someone so dashingly handsome.”

“There’s no buttering up a pirate,” Hook waggles a finger at Charming, but he inserts his hook’s point into the small indent in the handle that looks most like a lock. “Well, there is, but I’m mostly immune to it. But yes, my dear, I’ll help you unlock the secrets of this strange, magical lighthouse. Surely there’s no reason for these cabinets to be locked by anything beyond normal mea—oh. That sounded like a click.”

Sure enough, Hook takes his hook out of the handle and the cabinet slides open after him. Inside is a simple rectangular space, not filled to the brim with any secret magic lighthouse loot, but rather containing just one cube of ice.

“I’d ask how that hasn’t melted, but I don’t think I’d get an answer,” Hook says, shrugging and turning to the second cabinet. “You know, my last grand adventure before I returned to your kingdom and had my ship stolen from me was to the frozen lands up north.”

“Oh really?” Charming says, listening but also staring at the block of ice to see if it starts suddenly melting, but it doesn’t.

Hook fiddles with the lock on the second cabinet. “It was kind of nice up there, actually, but a hell of a land to navigate through with all the ice. I think I’d like to go back sometime.” He trails off for a moment, as if trying to gauge whether or not Charming likes the idea and could be persuaded to come with him, but the prince’s face is unreadable. “Cabinet’s open, love.”

“Thanks,” Charming says as Hook steps away, and begins to peer inside. This, like the other cabinet, also has just one item in it, though this one is more peculiar than a cube of ice. It looks almost like a nobleman’s boot, made of leather but not quite as tall, but at the sole are four wheels, and the shoe slides around on them inside the cabinet as Charming pushes it back and forth. “What the hell is this?”

“Fast transportation for a one-legged fairy who can’t fly,” Hook guesses, which is probably about as good of a guess as one could actually muster, seeing as how rollerskates don’t exist in this dimension. The object is completely foreign to both of them, so Charming of course can’t help but to pick it up.

He turns it upside-down to examine the wheels more closely, and from the inside of the shoe falls a small black pouch with the drawstrings pulled taut. Hook deftly catches one of the drawstrings mid-air with his hook and opens it, peering inside.

He pulls out a silver ring, double woven and with an inlay of three small diamonds covering one quarter, while the opposite quarter features a relief of an octopus head with embossed tentacles twisting around the rest of the ring.

“Pretty ring,” Charming says, watching Hook turn it over a few times and examine it thoroughly. “Especially for a sailor. I wonder what it was doing here?”

“Waiting,” Hook says cryptically, and then he meets Charming’s eyes and there’s a sudden fire in him that can’t be extinguished. “That mural down below, maybe it was of us, even if that boring pirate did have both hands. Love, I know we’ve been back and forth on how we could possibly end up together, but maybe this is telling us we just have to try for it.”

“You believe in fate now? I thought free will was the cornerstone of a pirate’s adventuring spirit?”

“Free will is what you do as a pirate, but maybe sometimes fate can push you in the right direction of the seas you want to… settle down in.” The choice of words isn’t lost on Charming, but he flushes bright red when Hook extends the ring to him. “My prince. Perhaps my pirating days would not have to come to an end with you, and perhaps your conscious would let you be both king and a pirate’s husband.”

Charming stammers out nonsense for a moment, eyes flashing rapidly between Hook and the ring. “You’re proposing? You can’t be serious, Hook, I mean. What do I tell my father, or the people; that I’ve come back from a day away engaged to the pirate who broke out of prison?”

“That would be the truth, wouldn’t it?”  
  
“But it’s more complicated than that!” Charming says, almost a yell, voice louder than he meant it, and he sees the look of betrayal that crosses Hook’s face for just half of a second before he steadys. “I mean, I was thinking we’d have to start small, to clear your name before you could just waltz in and lay claim to me. My father’s not going to immediately warm up to the idea of me marrying a non-noble, especially a man—”

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” Hook spits out, clenching his fist around the ring and drawing it back. “You’re not brave enough to tell your father. Not the people, but your father, that’s who you can’t stand to let down.”

“That’s untrue,” Charming says, grabbing at the wrist of Hook’s hand and keeping him from retreating any further. “My father’s opinion of me means nothing, but for the time being he is still the king, and being with you would leave me without an heir. That will be at the front of his mind.”

“So what, you’re asking me to give up piracy and sit in your castle and wait for you to find a woman who can give you an heir, and _then_ you’ll marry me over her? You’re ridiculous. I was offering you a way out of all the obligations of being a prince, a life where you could actually do what you wanted to, and you’re so desperate not to disappoint people that you’ll give that _and_ me up instead.”

“Hook,” Charming tries to interject, but Hook wrenches free of his grip on his wrist and shakes his head in anger. He stands there, almost defeated and avoiding Charming’s gaze, and neither of them speak for several moments.

“It makes sense now, what you said on the rowboat that sounded so wrong,” Hook says after the thoughtful pause, still looking dejected. “You’re not my secret lover. I’m yours.”

At the moment the words leave Hook’s mouth, before Charming has even a moment to process and reply, a terrifyingly loud clap of thunder peels through the air, rattling parts of the observation deck with its proximity. The tension diffuses mostly from the area, with Hook’s shoulders slumping back and Charming no longer gritting his teeth.

“Strange,” Charming says after a moment of the two of them just standing and staring at each other. “Looks like it’s still a nice day outside.”

“Doesn’t matter. We should get going back to the castle anyway. I can’t risk a storm untying the _Arousal_ and leaving us stranded here.”

There’s a lot more implied in those words than said, but Charming doesn’t challenge it. Hook starts to descend back down the stairs. With some misery as he passes the mural, Charming follows.

Hook is already halfway back across the moat by the time Charming trudges outside of the lighthouse, wracking his brain for the right thing to say; the set of magic words that would somehow make things better with Hook _and_ tell him how to be both the heir to the throne and the husband of an unruly pirate captain. That’s what he wants, he knows.

Thankfully, for all of his noted unruliness, Hook shows an unparalleled maturity on the way back to the boat, dressing himself quickly and then standing nearby and waiting patiently for Charming to do the same. He looks lost in thought rather than uninterested, but he stays close to Charming as they walk back, occasionally glancing at the sky for a sign of the storm or another peel of thunder, but they don’t come.

The _Arousal_ waits for them where they left her, and there are no signs of anyone, king’s men or fairies, on the other side waiting for them. Charming climbs into the boat first and feels no more aroused than he has in the last ten minutes, and he has to bite back a sigh for fear of irritating Hook. He makes to grab the oars, to pull his weight, as Hook climbs in, but the captain shakes his head wordlessly, and slips his hook through the hole in the handle of one and takes the other in his good hand, and then they’re back on the water once more.

It takes just two minutes for Charming to crack, trying desperately to look anywhere but at Hook without seeming rude but having nothing to focus on but the other man in the rowboat.

“I should have said yes.”

Hook quirks one eyebrow in interest, and his rowing pace slows. “Should have said yes to what?”

“To the proposal, to any of it,” Charming sighs. “As hard as it is to—to think that we might both be happy if we compromised, I shouldn’t have shut you down when you were trying to be good to me, like you somehow always are.”

Hook’s quiet for a moment, and then he lets off the oars and leaves them floating in the middle of the lake. “You still could say yes.” From a pocket in his coat, he pulls the drawstring pouch and hands it to Charming. “If you’ll take me, I’ll take you.”

Charming opens the velvet pouch and removes the octopus ring, turning it over in his fingers. “You’d still have me?”

“You’re the one that needs to be brave enough to say you’d have me,” Hook says, no malice in his voice but the lingering hurt from Charming’s previous words still evident.

“I would, Hook, I promise, we can figure something out.”

Charming goes to slide the ring onto one of his fingers, when suddenly something knocks into the bottom of the boat. A massive fish, a submerged piece of driftwood, or the slithering tentacle of a no-longer-slumbering otherworldly beast, it could not be said for sure, but the boat rocks unsteadily and the ring goes slipping out of Charming’s fingers and down into the deep lake below.

Charming looks utterly mortified. “Shit, Hook, I’m sorry—”

“The ring’s not important,” Hook says, signs of that dazzling smile once more returning to his face as he takes Charming’s hand in his own. “We can get another one. I’ll even let you convince me to pay for it properly, with the treasure I’ve stolen of course.”

“You’re horrible,” Charming laughs, and the world seems to be at peace once more.

For the moment.

The octopus ring goes plummeting down through the water at a speed far beyond what an object of its density should have plummeted, eventually coming to rest at the sandy bottom next to a coiled purple mass. The mass sweeps over the ring and draws it closer to itself, with a massive, looming yellow eye suddenly opening up to stare at it.

The _Arousal_ is rocked by a sudden undercurrent and jostles roughly, causing Hook to pick the oars back up and begin rowing for shore once more. A howling wind picks up, and Charming says something but it’s unintelligible in the noise. The water around the boat begins to shift and swirl, pockets of the lake suddenly forming whirlpools and coalescing into one larger, rapid current under the _Arousal_.

The boat itself capsizes suddenly, both Hook and Charming sent tumbling into the water and grabbing onto the hull. Hook reaches out to grab onto Charming’s arm, yelling something lost in the wind, but something latches onto one of Charming’s legs first and he disappears under the surface with a gasp of surprise.

Hook doesn’t hesitate to follow him down. End of days or otherwise, when the sea starts boiling a good captain always goes after his prince.

He sees the purple mass that has a grip on Charming’s leg but can’t make out what it’s attached to or if it’s even sentient or random chance that it latched onto him. There’s a look of terror on Charming’s face that fuels within Hook a desperation so fierce that he swims down faster and harder than he realized he could, especially with the hook wounding his stroke. He manages to get close enough to grasp Charming’s outstretched hand with his own, but the two of them just continue to descend into the depths of the lake.

A second purple mass appears next to Hook and moves as if to grab at him, or at least to wrench him free of Charming, and he slashes at it with his hook. Strange fluid leaks from the mass, almost like blood but also unlike any blood that Hook’s ever spilled before. It clouds the water for a moment, and when it clears Hook is glad that he still has a hold on Charming, who is still conscious. But they’ve been under for a long time now, and the surface is far above them.

The looming yellow eye opens up next to him, and Hook can’t help but gasp for breath and inhale a mouthful of water and he tries desperately to keep his grasp on Charming’s hand and kick upwards to the surface. The eye grows closer, following the pirate and prince as they’re dragged ever deeper, and there’s a shrill, horrible screech pounding in their heads as the water overwhelms the both of them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _If this is real life_   
>  _What was all that racket before?_   
>  _Careful[what you sorta kinda ask for](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O_Tc5-DWz4g)_

David’s alarm goes off.

When he reaches over to shut it off, he feels the space in his bed that Killian’s already long since vacated, no longer warm from his presence but still with the lingering smell of him there. David breathes it in sleepily, content, a smile forming in his wake-up haze.

A thought tugs at him momentarily; a desperation to cuddle making him wish that Killian was still there, that he’d asked him to stay. But this was what he’d said he wanted when they’d started dating: Killian leaving before anyone else in his apartment building got up. There was no way for them to figure out that he was having incredibly satisfying sex with his boyfriend. They wouldn’t even know that Killian  _ was _ his boyfriend as of a few months ago. 

He was just a man of the sea come aground for days at a time to become a man of David’s bed.

No. Scratch that thought. Killian was David’s best friend. That’s what he wanted people to think and so that’s what the would think, because it was true! And because David was careful to never do anything overtly romantic with Killian outside of the safety of his apartment.

The David Nolan of Storybrooke (the regular run-of-the-mill late-20s man with the beautiful face and the charming attitude, the one who ran the printing and design store that nobody needed but everyone visited, the one who was very cautiously in love with Killian Jones) was decidedly anti-romance. At least as far as public displays were concerned.

Who he was and what he did for Killian in the comfort of his apartment—and, equally as important, what he  _ screamed _ into his pillow when Killian took him and screamed in his mind when the roles were reversed—was a lot more pro-romance.

Killian was really good about it, too, which most of the time made it harder for David to  _ not _ think about desperately grabbing at him as he left the bed at three in the morning to go home to his boat, giving David everything he asked for in the relationship and at the same time leaving him thirsting for more. But Killian had things he wanted too, and they were tied up in the boat that was tied up in the Storybrooke marina. So as much as David may have theoretically wanted to get Killian to stay and not leave until midday when everyone could see him doing his walk of shame, he wouldn’t do it.

The  _ Jolliest Roger _ is Killian’s life, his pride and joy, and David is secondary, tied at best, to the sailboat. He’s Killian’s tie to land, there to give him some reason to not spend the rest of his life out on the water. Whether he could continue to fulfill that role forever, or if Killian even  _ wanted _ him to, remains to be seen.

Once he silences the alarm, David realizes he has an unread text.

It’s from Killian, timestamped fourteen minutes ago, saying that the weather’s so shit that he can’t take the boat out so he wants David to meet him at the diner when he gets up. The sound of heavy rainfall comes through once David’s read the message twice and woken up enough to clear his head of sleep and regain proper use of his senses. It’s uncommon for Killian to be so waylaid by the weather that he gives up on sailing and goes into town, and David knows it pisses him off. He cleans himself up just enough to not look or smell recently fucked, dons his raincoat and umbrella, and drives over to Granny’s diner.

It’s not hard to spot the soaking wet trail of water that Killian’s arrival left behind and follow it to their favorite table along the wall, especially as it seems like Killian’s the only non-staff in the diner for the moment. Ruby’s sweeping something behind the counter slowly, bored look on her face briefly loosening into a smile when she spots David.

“Good man, thanks for coming,” Killian grunts when David slides into the seat across from him. He’s soaked through, raincoat not enough to spare him from the relentless rain as he walked from the marina to the diner. David’s grateful that the diner’s warm enough so that he doesn’t have to watch him shiver. Killian casts a glance over to the counter and raises his voice: “Ruby, my better half has arrived and I’m now safely approachable, if you don’t mind.”

David feels his neck grow slightly hot under the weight of Killian’s choice of words, but if anyone was going to pass that off as Killian-being-Killian, it would like be Ruby. She’s the one who started calling him that in the first place. Even if this… advancement in his relationship with Killian is still fairly new, they have seven years of other history behind them that people know them by. No one batted an eye at Killian’s phrasing five months ago, and they wouldn’t now unless David started losing his cool over it. He doesn’t sit on the thought for longer than that.

Killian winks at him as Ruby walks over. “Morning, David,” she says before turning on his still dripping wet but  _ dashingly handsome _ sailor-boyfriend. “Had to bring the ocean in with you today, did you Kil? Someone’s gonna slip over that stream of water you left behind and put us out of business.” She looks back at David. “Do you think he’s ever heard of an umbrella?”

“Probably, but he has a tendency to leave his manners on his boat.” There’s a small mischievous sparkle in Killian’s eyes at that, and David has to try to stop the pink rising to his cheeks, because the truth of the matter is that Killian  _ definitely _ owns an umbrella, and it happens to  _ definitely _ be in David’s apartment at this very moment, nowhere near his boat, and David  _ definitely _ almost brought it along as well as his before worrying it looked suspicious. Not wanting to give Killian any chance to butt in, he continues: “Coffee, please, Ruby, before I have to start talking to him.”

“I understand. And for you”—she pauses to make a gesture to the entirety of Killian’s soaked form with one hand—“Rain man?”

“Oh, very clever, love. Coffee for me too, unless you think Granny would be willing to let you pity a sailor and serve me some rum on this horrible day?” He flashes Ruby one of his painfully charming smiles, but it’s as lost on her as it is found on David, who swallows hard.

“No can do,  _ captain _ . Not this early in the morning. Can’t leave poor David to take care of you all day, can we?”

They could, actually. David would be fine with taking the day off to help his mournfully drunk boyfriend back to his apartment and… helping him recover. It wouldn’t be sexy, but it would be Killian, and it would be out of eyesight of everyone else, and so David would be happy enough.

“Ah, no need,” Killian responds a half-second after he notices that David isn’t, too lost in thought for the moment. “There are easier ways for him to get me in his bed.”

There’s another wink between Killian and Ruby, who laughs, but the gears stop turning in David’s head. Ruby leaves to gather the coffee mugs, and David gets his teeth to stop grinding for enough time to growl out. “What do you  _ think _ you’re doing?”

Killian looks calm, smiling despite the tone David’s taking, and drops his voice to a whisper. “Relax, love. Nobody takes me that seriously. Besides, it’s Ruby. You’ve seen her and that Dorothy girl. She’s one of us.”

David doesn’t have the time to go through the mental hoops of unpacking how he feels about  _ that _ sentiment, so he tightens his frown. “You know this isn’t something I’m—”

“Comfortable with?” Killian interrupts. It’s not exactly the phrasing David was going to use, but it gets the point across, so he nods. “Sure, I know that. But you’ve known me long enough, even before we…” he trails off for a moment and quirks an eyebrow at David, not putting it into words as some sort of act of good faith. “Point is, you always knew I would rock your boat. Hah! Funny, right?”

David slumps back in his chair, but the anger’s already long gone from his face. “I just don’t want to ruin this by being so  _ blatant _ about how I feel and having everyone judge what we do and how we do it. I’m sorry if that makes me a coward or a hardass.”

Killian makes an interested hum, like he has something amusing to say about that but bites it back. “Hey, you have things you want to do. I have things I want to do. This is working out just fine for now, isn’t it? So let’s not talk about ruining it. I’m happy. I hope you’re happy too.”

David doesn’t have time to respond before Ruby comes back, handing them their mugs. He takes a long drink of the coffee, bringing back the warmth that he lost from the rain and gritting his teeth too hard. Killian seems to brighten up even more somehow as he drinks, which fills David’s stomach with some sort of joy. “Thanks, Ruby. You’re a lifesaver.”

//

David  _ does _ have things he wants to do, which is half of the reason he rebukes Killian’s offer of boat sex when he drives him back to the marina once the rain lets up an hour later. They’ve done it once, and while it was wild and freeing to get fucked on the open ocean instead of in his apartment, he didn’t want to commit the whole day to getting drunk while Killian fished. The other half of the reason is that Killian’s hired someone new recently—Will? Or Smee maybe? Those sounded like two names Killian had said. Maybe they were the same person, David wasn’t sure—and David doesn’t know what his role is yet or if he’d come along on the boat too. Surely Killian isn’t  _ that _ daring, but the idea left him nervous.

Besides, he has a business to run, even if he is the only employee and could technically take the day off if he wanted.

David drives the three blocks from Granny’s diner to his workshop, one of the many uniform small businesses in the local strip mall, but unique in being Storybrooke’s only graphic design and photo studio slash printing store. It’s called Prints Charming, and the sign out front has a profile of David’s face in a king’s golden crown.

Killian had named it when the shop opened three years ago after David came into an inheritance from some relative he didn’t know, who had seemed shrouded in mystery and potentially with fairly significant noble ties somewhere in Europe. Killian was convinced it was hush money, used to keep David from ascending to some sort of political position he didn’t realize he was the heir to, though David maintained that was far too absurd.

The money allowed him to ride the coattails of whatever the relative had done, however, and kept the shop up and running, which was nice considering the citizens of Storybrooke didn’t  _ really _ need that sort of shop. He got a fair amount of foot traffic from his neighbors, but it felt a lot more like small town camaraderie than actual interest. It didn’t matter much; he was happy doing what he was for however long he could manage to do so with the inheritance.

Just as Killian has the boat and his own aspirations with that, this is David’s slice of the world.

It’s an unsurprisingly slow Thursday morning for David, largely spent reorganizing his displays and portfolios that he uses as examples of his options available to customers. Sheriff Graham comes by at one point to pick up some fliers for the anti-drug presentation he was giving at the school in a few days, and then at lunch David fields a call from Mary Margaret, a teacher at said school, who asks if he’ll be closing at his normal hour today, then says she’ll be by later.

He also fields two very flirtatious texts from Killian in the morning that alternate between telling David how great the view of the sea is and how great the view of his backside is. There’s an attached selfie of him and a bottle of rum, and a promise to stop by his apartment later.

Closer to four, however, another text from Killian comes through, this one apologizing and saying that something very interesting has come up and that he’s likely to be out on the boat for most of the night instead. A moment later, as David’s typing a response, an attached picture of Killian’s dick pops up with a message that hopes it’ll tide David over until tomorrow. And for him not to worry, because he’s already taken Smee back to the marina before he snapped it so no one else has seen his dick.

David spends three minutes internally debating whether to save the picture or delete it from their text history entirely. The idea that someone could take his phone and see it horrifies him, but how likely is that? And he finds himself strangely endeared to the message that Killian sent, plus he  _ could _ use it as masturbation material if Killian was going to be busy all night.

The store’s been empty for almost half an hour now and David finds himself in a moment of weakness, strongly considering heading to the backroom and taking his own dick pic to send back to Killian, blushing at the thought like a bashful teenager. He’s halfway there when the bell above the front door jingles as it opens, causing him to stop in his tracks and exhale deeply before turning around.

Walking towards the counter are Mary Margaret and Henry Mills, the mayor’s son, and David quickly heads back over, hoping that he doesn’t look too red in the face. “Mary Margaret, hi. And hey, Henry. How’re you both? I take it this is what your phone call at lunch was about?”

“Henry asked me to take him here after school,” Mary Margaret explains, both her and David looking down at the beaming schoolboy. “And he promised to tell me why Regina wasn’t picking him up today when we got here.”

“I told mom I was helping you decorate the classroom for the end of the year party,” Henry says, looking quite proud of himself. Both he and David catch the concerned look on Mary Margaret’s face, so he adds in: “Which I  _ will _ do during recess tomorrow, I promise.”

“Henry, you know you shouldn’t be lying to your mother.”

Henry sighs as if ashamed that he isn’t being taken seriously, and David almost laughs at how ingenious the kid can be. “Maybe we should save the lecture for after I’ve told you everything I’ve done? I’m here for a reason, Mr. Nolan. I need to hire you.”

“Oh really?” David asks, still smiling. He knows Henry only calls people by their last names when he’s trying to butter them up. “You know, Henry, if you’re going to get decorations for the party printed here, maybe you shouldn’t have asked Mary Margaret to be the one to take you?” He’s joking, and winks at Henry, causing him to laugh.

“No, I’m serious! Here, look at this.” Henry tugs his backpack off his shoulders and unzips it, pulling out a leather-bound photo album and placing it on the counter, which he can barely see over. David opens it and finds numerous pictures of mayor Mills and her girlfriend. “This is my mom’s album of all of her favorite pictures of her and Emma.”

“You stole your mother’s photo album?” Mary Margaret asks, halfway between shocked and fascinated.   
  
“Surely for a reason,” David cuts in. “Alright, Henry. This album already looks quite nice, what do you need me for?”

“I found a ring!” Henry says, voice escalating in excitement. “Mom hid it in my room the other day, in a place she thinks I don't check. I think she’s going to propose to Emma!”

Mary Margaret gasps and David’s smile widens. Regina and Emma, unbeknownst to them, were most of the reason that David had even worked up the courage to begin dating Killian, even if they were doing it secretly. To see their continued happiness gave him the briefest, fleeting moment of confidence that he could make a life of his relationship with Killian too.

“And I was hoping that you could create a collage of some of the pictures,” Henry continues, snapping David’s attention back to him. “So that when it happens I have a gift for them.”

“Alright,” David agrees. “Sure, Henry, I can do that for you. Do you have any of the pictures in mind?”

“Well you’re the designer,” Henry says, shrugging. “I thought you could keep it for a few days and figure out what looked the nicest. You’re an adult, you know what love looks like, right?”

“Of course,” David says without thinking, causing a very interested look to cross Mary Margaret’s face.

“Seeing someone, David?” She asks, the tiniest hint of smugness in her smile, like she knows something that he doesn’t.

David feels his stomach tighten up, the joy and confidence in his life with Killian receding to the background when confronted with it head-on. He can’t (shouldn’t) say no, but he also isn’t sure he can say yes and trust them to leave it alone. Mary Margaret could probably be convinced to keep the relationship a secret even if she didn’t know who it was with, but Henry just came in and told the two of them that his mother’s about to propose, and surely David’s relationship is lower on the secrets-worth-keeping scale than that, which means Regina and Emma would know immediately.

“I am,” he says after a moment, hoping that his hesitation wasn’t long enough to magnify their suspicions. “But it’s very casual. I just meant—I mean, I can tell what love looks like. The movies are full of it, you know.”

“Is it someone we know?” Henry asks, uninterested in David’s explanation and doing Mary Margaret’s interrogation for her. “Ooh, does Killian know? One time I asked mom what being a sailor was like, and she told me I had to ask you because you spend so much time with him. I asked why I couldn’t ask him directly and she said you’d make it sound less appealing.”

David laughs at that, partly out of nerves, partly because Henry is a little more psychic than is good for him, and partly because the honesty is genuinely amusing, plus he doesn’t think there’s anything unappealing about Killian in the slightest, so Regina is wrong there. “Yes, Kil knows,” he says, ignoring the first question. “And I think that’s about all the time I have for questions today if you’d like me to start working on this collage.”

“Thanks, David!” Henry chimes, picking his backpack up and turning towards the door.

“I better take him home,” Mary Margaret says, with a look that lets David know he’s already doomed himself by saying too much. “But don’t think we’re done with this conversation, David.”

“I don’t imagine I could ever get off so easily, Miss Blanchard,” he sighs. “See you next time.”

“Say hi to Killian for me,” she calls over her shoulder as the two of them leave the store.

David closes the photo album and then slowly faceplants onto the leather cover, groaning.

//

Killian sends the dick pic and his well-intentioned apology off to David, as any good boyfriend would, and then tosses his phone somewhere into the cabin of the  _ Jolliest Roger _ and unties her from the marina’s dock once more. He waves goodbye to Smee, standing a distance up the docks and looking slightly confused. Killian realizes he’ll have to give the man some sort of explanation at a later date for why he was told to head home while Killian himself had full intentions of returning to the water after their day on the ocean.

The original plan was for the both of them to disembark the  _ Jolliest Roger _ after all the trawls had been accounted for and transactions completed with the fishery representatives and all the business nonsense that took away from what Killian really loved about sailing, which was the freedom. The freedom to live under only the restrictions of the water and the ocean breeze.

The freedom to text David and leave Smee behind because he had heard some interesting chatter on the radio while the fish were being counted, and now he had a very serious need to go whale-watching, looking for Crocodile.

Crocodile, of course, being the minke whale that had so captivated Killian when he first saw her that he had poorly maneuvered the  _ Jolly Roger _ into a sand bank and irreparably damaged her hull, leading to the second incarnation of the boat he owns now.

He calls her Crocodile because whenever he dreamed of the incident he saw the whale laughing at him, with her baleen horrendously twisted into the sharp jaws of a crocodile.

It’s probably something worth mentioning to someone, either David or some sort of professional, before he ends up a horrible caricature of Captain Ahab. But Killian doesn’t desire revenge, he just wants to see what it was about the ordinary whale that had so marveled him before. So here he is, setting back out into the Storybrooke Sound just a few hours before sundown, on the lookout for a whale with a hook-shaped mark on her fluke.

David texts him back a few minutes after the second voyage starts and admits that he almost managed to send Killian something dirty back, but he got cockblocked by having to do his job. Killian likes that, the admission that David was comfortable with the flirtation, especially after he’d been concerned that Killian was ‘too blatant’ this morning. There’s a second text a moment later that says that he has interesting news to tell him later, and to not give in to Mary Margaret’s interrogations if she comes for him, and also to be safe out on the water, because David hates having to eat alone. Killian likes that too, the admission of concern. It makes him feel warm, like rum does, against the cool evening ocean breeze.

The waters are so vacant for the first few hours, as the sun finishes sinking down below the horizon, that it might unnerve a lesser man than Killian. But he revels in the solitude as he sails between the minor islands that spot this stretch of the Maine coast, whale-watching in the dark and seeing only signs of fish. Just him, the water, and the lighthouse.

The lighthouse.

Killian stares up at the massive cracked-stone structure, crawling ivy visible even in the darkness, watching the mirrors and beacon spin their endless light into the distance. He knows these waters like the back of his hand, but the lighthouse is a comfort. Something about it reminds him of David, or maybe the other way around. He seems to find a whole lot of things that he likes about the ocean in David, the way one does when a best friend of so long turns into a lover. They kept each other around for a reason, didn’t they?

“He’d like it out here,” Killian muses to himself. “I could blow him right on the deck and no one would be around to see it.” He takes a drink of water and checks his phone for the time; close to seven. By this point David’s probably already eaten, so there’s little incentive for him to want to meet Killian at the marina just to be taken out into the waters and romanced when they could just fuck back at his apartment. But Killian’s still tempted to ask, convinced that he will but just trying to figure out how he’ll word it before he calls, when he hears a loud bang and a crackle coming from somewhere underwater, near the boat.

His first thought is that he’s run aground again, so distracted by thoughts of David that he’s lost his navigator’s presence of mind, but he’s still well out of the way of the sandbanks according to the depth gauge, so he scans over the boat’s railing for the source of the noise.

It’s a wondrous sight. A school of fish, glowing in six or seven different colors, swims in a constant ring nearby to his starboard bow. At first, Killian thinks the light show has something to do with the way the lighthouse beacon is sweeping across their scales, but then he realizes that he’s drifted further off than he realized, no longer close to the burning beam. 

The fish seem to notice him watching, and they begin to pop.

Not meaning that they explode, but more that the colors sparkle and leave some sort of glowing residue in the water, and the fish become a dull gray for a few moments before the iridescence begins again. They look almost like—

“Fireworks?” Killian thinks aloud, and the fish swim some twenty yards away before forming the color ring again. He takes the helm of the  _ Jolliest Roger _ again and banks her to follow them, figuring that this might be as close to whale-watching as he’ll actually get tonight.

The fish seem to have some sort of sixth sense (or however many senses fish usually have, plus one) for him and the boat, as they burst into color whenever he grows near and then swim on, forming the ring while waiting for the  _ Jolliest Roger _ to follow. The second time it happens, they start making shapes with the residue falling off of their scales. The first is just a simple triangle, but the next is a more complex snowflake-looking shape with six branches. After that comes a raven, which confuses Killian, as he begins to question how fish even know what ravens are. 

And then the fish burst one last time into the shape and color of a golden crown, one that matches the art on David’s Prints Charming sign, and they disappear, color no longer returning to their scales and making them impossible to spot in the dark waters.

Killian’s further out from the marina than he meant to be, but the lighthouse is still visible in the distance, so at least he has an easy path home. He doesn’t turn around immediately, however, standing at the bow of his boat and wondering what the hell he just witnessed. Multicolored fish that pop like fireworks? It was unheard of! But perhaps this was the sort of thing that drew him to the water in the first place; the marvel that had captivated him when he had seen Crocodile, just taking a different form.

There’s another loud, sudden noise below the boat, which sounds like raucous cheering.

He has to direct the  _ Jolliest Roger _ away slightly to get a view of it, and when he does he sees that a five-by-five foot square of water under where the boat just sat is illuminated by what looks like underwater floodlights. He peers over his port side and down into the light, which creates a view so impressively clear that he can see straight down almost a hundred feet.

There’s some sort of open-air rink below him, and creatures that look like mermaids from fairy tales are skating on jet-propelled clam shells, bumping into each other in an effort to spin circles around each other in some sort of underwater roller derby.

A voice booms out from the arena, crystal clear to Killian above despite the hundred feet of water between them: “Ariel of the Shellshockettes scores four more points as she pushes her way through a mass of Poseidon’s Princesses! We have quite the match on our hands tonight, folks, and the crowd is LOVING IT!”

A chill runs down Killian’s spine; he isn’t sure why, but something about what he’s seeing scares him more than surprises him. Mermaids in fairy tales were creatures of good, who lose their voices to evil sea witches and try to find someone to love them, but as soon as he sees them below him he thinks of nothing but the stories of sirens luring sailors to their watery graves, and he feels he’s in a risky position. He can’t be lured by a siren. David would be so pissed.

He moves to spin the  _ Jolliest Roger _ back towards the lighthouse when the lights in the arena below him shut off suddenly, and the sound of thunder—no, more like a cannon blast—comes from his right, along with an incredible brightness that causes Killian to wince.

When the spots in his eyes disappear, he sees Crocodile swimming along the surface of the water just two boat’s lengths away from him. The hook-mark on her fluke is visible, and Killian finds himself staring in awe one more time, feeling overwhelmed and a little scared by the madness that the ocean is showing him tonight. A few minutes pass with Crocodile just staying at the surface, letting him watch her, before he finds out the source of the noise and light.

From Crocodile’s blowhole suddenly spews a beam of sunlight, illuminating the Storybrooke Sound as if it was noon, and a massive cannonball ejects shortly after with the same blasting sound as before, shooting straight up into the air and then splashing down into the water close to Killian.

“What the actual fuck,” is all he can get out before a second cannonball goes careening up into the air in an arc, and he has to scramble towards the stern of the boat as the front half of the  _ Jolliest Roger _ is smashed to bits instantly as the cannonball impacts. The boat begins sinking, Killian grasping desperately for one of the life jackets but being unable to slip it on before the entire backend of the ship capsizes and sends him down into the depths.

He doesn’t plummet too far down into the water, thankfully, and he can see the lingering shimmer of Crocodile’s sunlight on the water’s surface to show him which way is up. He kicks upwards, knowing he can find the lighthouse still and most likely swim his way back to Storybrooke as long as the whale—who appears to be invisible in the darkness of the water—doesn’t decide to eat him. What a fucking night.

But it gets worse.

When Killian reaches the surface of the water, he finds himself trapped under it, as if there’s a sheet of glass preventing him from breaking back into the air. He pounds his fist against it, bewildered, and moves to the side, hoping to find something there, but there’s no relief.

Beneath him, a looming yellow eye opens up. A voice starts up in his head, some mess of jumbled thoughts in a language he doesn’t recognize, and Killian can’t tell if it’s his or something/someone else’s except for that some of the words sound like they’re screaming David. Or maybe that  _ is _ him, screaming for David as he finds himself overwhelmed by the water in this life too.

//

Killian gasps awake in the cabin of the  _ Jolliest Roger _ , not quite on the bed, finally brought back to consciousness by the impact of his beautiful face slamming into the hardwood floor. He groans, both in pain and in delight as he gulps in air rather than seawater. His stomach shifts, and for a moment Killian feels like death is coming back for round two, or at least the contents of his stomach, but he manages to bite back the bile in his throat. It’s the closest he’s ever gotten to being seasick.

His head is pounding with pain and he knows he’ll regret turning on a light, but it’s pitch black in the cabin and he can’t find his phone so he slams his fist unceremoniously on the switch of his lamp and keeps his eyes closed for as long as he feels he needs to. According to his phone it’s eight in the morning on Friday, the day after he went out alone.

There’s a good morning text from David, almost two hours old, that he doesn’t read just yet. Someone and/or something starts knocking on the door of the cabin and speaking, and for a moment Killian seizes up and pretends not to be home, but then in his bleary post-nightmare haze he recognizes Smee’s voice.

“Captain Jones? Are you in there? You didn’t tell me what the plan for today was, but I’m here if you are.”

Killian is suddenly conscious of the fact that he has no idea where the  _ Jolliest Roger _ is, assuming that since all of his belongings were here that he is indeed on board his boat. He never made it back to the marina last night, right? But Smee is here, and he must’ve gotten aboard somehow, and he doesn’t  _ sound _ surprised to have done so.

There’s a brief moment where Killian remembers the mermaids, the sirens, from last night and panics, thinking Smee could be one. But he rallies, convincing himself that a siren would at least be smart enough to pretend to be David, having a complex mythological intellect of some sort. He hops up and swings the door open when there’s another knock, realizing as he does that he’s shirtless but at least not fully nude. The light that breaks into the cabin causes spots in his eyes, which causes him to rub at them.

He sees the Storybrooke marina through the doorway, and the ropes keeping the fully intact  _ Jolliest Roger _ harbored there, somehow.

“Smee,” he rasps out, throat dry. “What happened last night?”

“Well I don’t know, captain,” Smee says with a shrug. “We finished up yesterday and you told me you were heading back out onto the water to check out some news on the radio. But then you went inside your cabin and as far as I know you never pulled up anchor again. Maybe you had too much to drink?”

That doesn’t seem right at all, based on Killian’s experiences. But somehow here he is, in his boat, in the marina, not dead at the bottom of the Gulf of Maine. So regardless of what his version of the events are, Smee’s seem a lot more plausible. Firework fish, mermaids doing roller derby, a light-and-cannon shooting whale, and an inescapable ocean. If those had been real, and he had made it back to the harbor, he’d be a rich man. They’d call him a scientist for all the new things he would have discovered.

What a hell of an experience, dream or otherwise.

“I need a day off,” Killian says without really thinking about it. “Something’s… not quite right with how I slept, I think. I’ll stick to solid ground today, Smee.” His new associate raises his eyebrows, as if he expected Killian to be the last person to ever prefer the ground to the waves. Which was probably true, but not everyone had a night like he did. “Consider today a paid vacation,” he adds for good measure.

Smee looks about as confused by this as he did when Killian told him he was going back onto the water alone last night, and Killian wonders just what exactly the man thinks of him. Probably not much, but at least he knows he’s getting paid. “Sure, captain. I’ll let the traders know not to expect anything from us today.”

“Good man. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a shower and to see a man about some papercraft.”

Smee nods, but the confusion still lingers and possibly even grows, and Killian figures he may as well lean into it. The impression that he’s  _ very _ strange is likely irreparable by now. Or maybe it’s just true. He closes the door on the poor man and searches around in his cabin for a change of clothes and his key to David’s apartment, then texts to say that he’s stealing in there for a shower and doesn’t care who sees, but that he’ll meet him at Prints Charming later.

He’s expecting some sort of resigned response about how David regrets giving him a key to his apartment if they’re keeping their relationship on the down low, but to be fair Killian’s had this key for three years now. Instead, David just tells him to not waste all of his hairspray, and then two minutes later sends Killian a picture of the extra donuts he bought for whenever he shows up at the shop. Suddenly, despite everything that happened to him the night before, Killian feels blessed and thriving just looking at the picture. David’s getting laid tonight for sure.

He doesn’t own a car, being a man of the sea, so he has to walk all the way to David’s apartment, hoping he at least looks less like a drowned bilgerat than he feels. Not that it’s like anyone would comment on it, or be surprised, but Killian does aspire to keep at least some respect around town. He passes Regina on the opposite sidewalk at one point, but she’s on her phone and moving quickly and just waves at him. He waves back, thankful for the avoided confrontation with someone as influential as the mayor, and luckily doesn’t run into anyone else that he knows before fleeing into David’s apartment.

The shower in there is absolutely blissful. After the hell of vividly experiencing the ocean trying to swallow you whole, he takes great satisfaction in messing with the temperature and pressure settings that David felt he needed installed. It’s good to be in control of the water. Take that, sea demons. A good captain can never be kept down.

It’s after nine by the time he finishes dressing and prepares for the walk to Prints Charming, which has prompted David to text him and ask if he’s still coming or if he can keep his donuts for himself. Killian’s reply comes twenty minutes late and with a very serious threat to David’s sex life if he didn’t wait for the reply because  _ yes _ he’ll be there soon, and  _ yes _ he still wants those damn donuts. 

David doesn’t reply for almost the entire walk to the store, only buzzing back something saying that he’s been too busy to eat them as Killian enters the strip mall and catches the sight of what must be at least twenty children through the windows of Prints Charming. Also on the scene are David, likely very frazzled, and Mary Margaret Blanchard, likely at fault.

“—and that’s how a lot of things that you might see a lot, like birthday and holiday cards, get designed,” David finishes saying as Killian walks through the door. Most of the children, as well as David and Mary Margaret, look at him when the bell in the doorway gives him away. “Well, look here kids, I’ve got a customer. Miss Blanchard, mind having the class wait for a moment while I speak with Mr. Jones? In the back of the store,” he adds, making eye contact with Killian.

Killian paths his way through the clump of kids gingerly, making sure not to step on any of the backpacks that they’ve strewn across the floor. Henry Mills says something to him about taking a long time to talk so that David can have a break, and Killian just nods. Sometimes Killian feels the way about that kid as Smee probably feels about him: completely and totally unpredictable, and a little weird.

“Mr. Jones, present,” Killian says once he and David have escaped into the small backroom that David keeps as an office. The donuts are on the table, David taking a deep breath and sitting down as he points to them. Killian takes a bite and knows pure joy. The look on his face must be good, because David’s already smiling wide when Killian looks back at him. “What’s going on out there?”

“Impromptu field trip,” David explains. “Courtesy of some kids who managed to set off fireworks inside the school and ruin the computer lab overnight.”

“What the fuck,” Killian says through mouthfuls of donut. That probably explains Regina’s phone call and hustle this morning. “Wait, fireworks?”

“Yeah, crazy right? Who would’ve thought Storybrooke had kids like that. Graham and Regina are having separate meltdowns right now, I’m sure.”

“Saw part of one of them on the way to your apartment,” Killian nods. “That’s so strange though. I had the weirdest… experience? Dream? Something involving fireworks last night.”

“Oh yeah?” David asks, grabbing the last donut in the box and tearing it in half. Killian’s protests fall on deaf ears. “I deserve this, trust me. Tell me about your fishing then, I’ll gladly let the teacher handle her kids for a few more minutes.”

That turns out to be a mistake, however, as before Killian can begin his story the door to the backroom opens and Mary Margaret appears in the doorway. She’s holding one hand over her eyes but peeking through the gaps between her fingers like she’s expecting them to be watching some sort of scary movie, but drops it immediately upon entry. “David, I think one of the kids jammed one of your printers. Kind of seriously.”

David groans, but Killian’s looking back and forth between the two of them. “Wait, wait,” he says before they leave the office. “What did you think we were doing back here?” He makes eye contact with David, who looks confused. “Did you  _ tell _ her?”

David freezes up, and Killian instantly wishes he could take the words back. He goes red in the face as David closes his eyes and exhales. “No, Kil. Mary Margaret was just being nosy.” His voice is obviously irritated and Killian can see how tightly his jaw is clenched. Mary Margaret is turned away, playing innocent, but it’s clear all three of them understand the implications of the words. David makes to move past Killian, who takes a risk and grabs at one of his wrists.

It catches him off-guard, evidently, as he freezes up again, but he doesn’t shake Killian off when he moves a little closer so that he can whisper. “I’m so sorry, David. I’ll get out of your way here. But, please, meet me on the boat this evening? I’ll make it up to you.”

“Right,” David says, not yanking himself away but tone clearly expressing his desire to get away from Killian now. “I’ll text you.”

It’s a lot better than Killian expected, honestly. David moves back into the front of the store. Mary Margaret gives him a sheepish, apologetic look, though it’s really all on him. Killian grabs the half of the donut that David left behind and slips out the back of the store, cursing himself the whole time.

David autopilots through fixing the paper jam in the printer. Mary Margaret either corrals the kids and distracts them with something, or he looks as grumpy as he feels, because not even Henry stays to watch him do it. He  _ knew _ Killian would be careless about this, always had that gut-wrenching feeling from their very first date, but he also can’t believe he was careless in his own right, telling Mary Margaret that he was seeing someone and giving her  _ any _ reason to suspect it was Killian in the first place.

Surprisingly, though, he finds he’s more upset at the manner in which it happened than the loss of the secret.

David had thought often, partially in paranoia, about how the two of them would tell people they were dating. It was an inevitability if the two of them stayed together. He thought of low-stress ways to tell people without making himself feel uncomfortable, or to feel like their relationship would become anyone else’s business or entertainment. Killian accidentally implying it in the backroom of his store had not been included on the list, but then he started rationalizing it.

It was only Mary Margaret, who was smart enough to have already figured it out considering the action that prompted the words in the first place. And she had borne witness to David’s reaction, which meant that he could talk to her about why he hadn’t told people before and maybe curb any more discussion before it happened.

And it had kind of felt like ripping a bandage off, honestly. He’d already gone through all of his stages of annoyance in record time. Sixteen minutes and one fixed printer later and he was hardly even mad at Killian anymore, because staying mad at him just made him feel lonely.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret says as she comes up behind him. “I should get the kids back on the bus to the school, their time in the lab would be ending soon. Thanks for your help, David, and I’m sorry if I caused any problems—”

“It’s fine,” he says, doing his express best to make it not sound clipped and nodding at her. “But look, Mary Margaret, what Killian and I are doing—”

He’s interrupted by the door opening again, this time ushering in Ruby and a few other girls that he’s seen at the diner before but never met well enough to remember. “Woah, David! Busy today, huh? Hi, Mary Margaret.”

“Hi, Ruby,” David says, losing his train of thought. “What are you doing here?”

“I have a job for you!” The swarm of girls move closer to the printer that David’s still poking around at, testing the quality of his fix. “Me and Dorothy and some of our friends want to start a roller derby club in town, so we thought we should have some fliers made for sign-ups. I was gonna make them myself, but Granny was so happy with the way you redesigned the menu for the diner that she said I should really let you do it. Here, look, I have a mock-up.” She pulls a sheet of paper out of her bag, showing it to David. 

Mary Margaret moves away quietly and rounds up the students, David watching it happen out of the corner of his eye and knowing that she’s going to slip away before he can explain exactly what’s happening with him and Killian.

Actually, maybe it’s better that way. It’s a strange thought for him, ignoring a desire to set the record straight on exactly what the terms of his relationship with Killian is, but as he watches the opportunity to talk slip away he finds himself just wanting to be on the boat with Killian rather than trying to explain his life to other people. That’s got to be a step in the right direction, yeah?

Ruby keeps talking to him about the fliers and what she wants for them, and at certain point David has to give up and stop thinking about whether or not there’s a crisis to be averted and just start listening. It’s a good distraction, as is the work that comes along with it, and by the time he’s locking up the store to go back to his apartment he’s feeling much more at ease with himself again.

He texts Killian to let him know he’s going for a shower before he comes to the marina. It’s the first text he’s sent to him since Killian left the store hours earlier, but he feels like he owed himself the mental break. Texting earlier would’ve been easier on Killian’s conscience but rougher on David’s anxiety, and he couldn’t risk getting consumed by it. Killian responds with a very grateful note, making sure that David knows that he’s got something really special planned and to bring an appetite.

There’s a peel of thunder—or something like it? Cannonfire is the first thing that comes to mind, but that doesn’t make any sense—in the air as David gets into his car, causing him to look around.

The sky is… clear. The sun’s blazing down. Not a cloud in sight, let alone a thunderhead. Strange, but Maine springs have a tendency to be. The important thing is that the weather won’t interfere with him going down to the marina and having dinner with Killian, serious heart-to-heart about their relationship optional but likely. He’s also pretty sure he’s gonna get laid if he doesn’t freak out too badly, which is great for his ego.

When he pulls up to his apartment complex, the front porch of it is not clear. Blocking the front door is a gray cat, doing nothing menacing whatsoever and licking one of its forepaws. David stares at it for a moment, trying to place if he’s ever seen the cat before or if one of his neighbors in the complex definitely owns one, but he comes up with nothing. The cat does appear to have a collar, however, so David approaches it slowly, hoping to read it.

“Hey, fella,” he says softly as he climbs the steps. The cat immediately slams its raised paw down and gives David what could only be described as a glare, stopping him in his tracks.

The cat also seems to be missing an eye, as only a single yellow one leers at him from below.

David’s not exactly sure what to do. The cat very obviously doesn’t want him to try and read its collar, but he also needs to get around it and into the apartment complex, and he doesn’t want to just let the cat into the building if it doesn’t belong to anyone inside. Who knows how long it could take the owner to find it if he did, and then he’d feel responsible.

Fortunately, the cat makes the decision for both of them. It seems to bore of glaring at David after ten or fifteen seconds and starts to strut away, hopping onto the railing of the front steps and then into the bushes nearby, disappearing from view. David thinks to himself that he probably should’ve taken a picture of the cat with his phone, just in case, but he doesn’t want to trawl in the bushes for it. Someone the cat finds more appealing than David can figure out what’s on the collar. Right now he has a shower to take and clothes to debate over.

Inside his apartment, he sees the signs of Killian’s visit from earlier: the clothes he was wearing to the diner and on the boat yesterday, along with an extra towel from the bathroom, are now in David’s laundry hamper, mixing in with his own things. Killian’s been keeping his laundry at David’s for years now, seeing as it’s free to do in his apartment and not free to do at the local laundromat, but right now it feels especially right to see them there. Like David’s being confronted by the reminder that  _ yes _ , he’s been cohabitating with Killian forever, and of course it makes as much sense to other people that they’d end up together as it did to them.

The whole place smells like Killian, tinged with the afterscent of David’s hairspray, and David feels a great warmth overwhelm him.

He considers for a long time whether or not he should wear the leather jacket that Killian bought him, the one that matches his, out to the boat. On one hand, it’s almost June; on the other, it’s Maine, and they’ll be on a boat, and most importantly David wants to show up  _ looking _ like Killian’s boyfriend because that’s what he is. That last thought makes it pretty easy to decide he’s wearing it, and he gets into the shower pleased with the decision.

He’s about to send a text to Killian telling him he’s on the way when one from Mary Margaret flashes up onto his screen. It’s a very simple message, hoping that he has a good time on his date tonight and telling him not to blame Killian for what happened earlier.

He lingers over his opportunity to reply for a moment, considering this his second chance at explaining himself to Mary Margaret. There’s a lot he could say. Yesterday, before he knew that she knew for sure, David would’ve considered a whole lot to be at stake here, making sure Mary Margaret knew the boundaries of how he felt about his relationship with Killian.

But fuck it.

There’s gotta be worse things in life than someone knowing you’re dating your best friend.

He sends back a quick thanks to Mary Margaret, then lets Killian know he’s coming. His incorrigible, dashing, and handsome boyfriend sends back a winky face.

//

When Killian catches sight of David walking down the pier towards the  _ Jolliest Roger _ , adorned in the leather jacket that perfectly complements his own, his smile is brighter than the rapidly setting sun. He has two immediate reactions: the first is an almost anguished scream ricocheting around in his mind over how  _ fucking hot _ David looks; the second is a visible, ragged exhalation after his breath hitches in his throat when he realizes that David is his boyfriend, and damn is he lucky.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, quiet at first from actual lack of breath. He spent all day thinking of ways to make things up to David, to make him happy so that neither of them had to deal with the idea of breaking up with one’s best friend, grateful that he’d even agreed to meet him here. And then here he comes, walking towards Killian like  _ he’s _ the one asking for things to be better. Killian’s stunned, rooted in place, reacting purely on reflex to David’s happiness.

“Well, we didn’t get to finish our conversation from earlier,” David says, accepting Killian’s help from the pier onto the boat and then keeping hold of his hand. There’s no one else anywhere near them in the marina, sure, but the action seems more reckless than usual, as if David hadn’t rigorously checks to make sure they weren’t being watched before doing so. Killian must look some shade of lost, because he adds in: “About your dream from last night?”

“Right. Yeah, you’re right.” He’s close to almost  _ stammering _ it out, for fuck’s sake, like a schoolboy with a crush. There’s something electric in the air. It’s confidence; David’s charged with it, and Killian can’t resist. “But I wanted to apologize first, you know. I made a mistake, love. You seem to be taking it better than I expected, but it’s my duty to make things right.” There’s a pause, Killian finally gathering enough of himself up to try and recover his demeanor. “As your boyfriend?”

“As my boyfriend,” David confirms, nodding. “Look, Kil. I might’ve been a little too locked-on to the idea that people knowing about our relationship would somehow cause it to fail. Like they’d expect something from it that neither of us was ready for just because of how long we’ve been friends, I don’t know. And maybe they do. I’m still loathe to find out, honestly, but I think it’s better if I look past that where I can.”

It’s the kind of mature response that Killian doesn’t know if he’d give if the roles had been reversed, but the implications are clear: Killian is someone that David sees as worth working for, despite himself. And, hell, how did he ever get so lucky?

“I still don’t want to just up and tell anyone and everyone, if that’s okay,” David continues. “But Mary Margaret knowing isn’t the end of the world. Next time we’re doing it my way though, alright?”

It’s a rhetorical question and they both know it, so Killian answers by pulling David close and kissing him hotly. David pushes into it and opens Killian’s mouth with his tongue, the latter relaxing and feeling quite happy to be lead through the kiss if it’s what David wants. David leads Killian backwards down the deck of the boat towards the cockpit until his calves bump into it and he sits and opens his eyes as the kiss ends.

“Now,” David says, standing over Killian. “All that said and done, I do believe you said you were going to make it up to me.”

This puts Killian’s plan back into action, but stage one must come before stage three. He stands again, dazzling smile on his face as he turns the charm on  _ hard _ for David. “I did, yeah. I have somewhere I want to take you. And there’s pizza in the cabin.”

“Understanding the way to your man’s heart as always, I see,” David says, a little teasing and a little saccharine, all arousal. Killian bites down the urge to drop to his knees ahead of schedule and turns to the controls. “Alright then. I’ll get the food, you get us out of here.” And that’s how it goes: David enters the cabin and Killian rushes about untying the  _ Jolliest Roger _ from the dock so that they’re already on the way by the time David’s back at the cockpit, two slices of pizza in hand, offering one to Killian. “How far out are we going?”

“Just near the lighthouse,” Killian says, though the truth is in the moment the answer is ‘ _ as far out as you desire, my love _ .’ He’ll save the sappy, romantic words for stage two. “I’m looking for something, I think. I wanna show it to you.”

David makes an inquisitive noise around his mouthful of pizza. “This have anything to do with your dream?”

Killian nods, then launches into a recount of the  _ experience _ that he’d had last night. He really upsells how magical it had been to see the fish swim around the boat in a swarming ring of colors, how desperately he wants to see if it was real so that he can show it to David. And David goes along good-naturedly, not expressing any disbelief whatsoever. In fact, he asks what makes Killian so sure it was a dream and not some new species of fish he might’ve discovered, which forces Killian to semi-sheepishly talk about the mermaids too, at which point he figures he might as well bring up Crocodile and the… whatever it was that he saw underwater.

“That’s so weird,” David says, more thoughtful than insulting. “Sorry, I mean. A big yellow eye trapped you underwater after a whale shot a cannonball at your boat? This boat, the one we’re on. And you saw mermaids playing roller derby?” And then he pauses, like something’s just clicked. “Huh, that’s quite the coincidence.”

Killian quirks an eyebrow, expecting this sort of response to his dream but grateful that David at least wasn’t calling him childish for wanting to go look for the fish again. “What is?”

“Well, after you left the shop today, Ruby came in. She wanted me to design some fliers for her because she and her friends are starting a roller derby club in town. And when I was leaving work I  _ swear _ I heard thunder, or a cannon blast, but there was nothing in the sky.” David pauses for a moment, shrugging. “And then I saw the cat.”

“The cat?”

“Yeah,” David nods. “Outside the front door of my building there was this cat with one single yellow eye.”

This causes a slight turn in Killian’s stomach, just to be reminded of the way he felt trapped underwater, with the eye looking at him.

“You said the fish looked like fireworks?”

Killian nods, puts it together. “Someone set off fireworks in the school last night.”

David looks deep in thought for a moment, like he’s found himself thrust into the middle of some Sherlock Holmes-esque mystery that he’s about to unravel the answer to, but then he just shrugs and smiles at Killian. “Kind of a wild set of coincidences, huh.”

“Makes me wish I hadn’t planned for looking for a bunch of fish to be my great romantic gesture to get you to want to keep being my boyfriend,” Killian admits. “You know, in case that cat stole away on the boat and claws us to death.”

David laughs. It’s a good, heartwarming sound, and the rest of their trip over to the waters near the lighthouse pass in the same sort of cheer, with much pizza consumed.

As they get close to where Killian feels like he’ll take up lookout for the fish, David’s phone rings. “It’s Regina,” he says, confused at first and then thinking about the photo album of hers he has stashed under the counter of his store. “I bet I know what this is about.”

“Take it,” Killian shrugs. “I’ll keep lookout. The ocean isn’t going anywhere.”

David moves into the cabin so as not to bother Killian’s contemplative view of the ocean with the conversation, then picks up the call, sitting down on the bed. “Mayor Mills, good evening.”

“Hi, David,” Regina’s voice comes out from across the line. She sounds amused, but in the semi-serious way she’s always adopting. “According to my son, who is very sweet but also doesn’t seem to understand the impact of losing very sentimental items”—that sounds directed slightly away from the phone, as if Henry is sitting next to her—“I believe you have something of mine.”

“That I do,” David confirms. “But I’m afraid I haven’t quite finished what Henry asked me to work on, so I’ll need to keep it. Congratulations on your future engagement, by the way.” He says that last part with a little cheek, because it’s always been a little enjoyable to push Regina’s buttons.

“And yours as well,” she says in stride. “I saw your better half this morning, actually. He looked a little haggard. Long night out for the two of you?” This taunting causes David to grit his teeth slightly, knowing he shouldn’t dish it out if he can’t take it but still displeased. He doesn’t answer. “I heard from Emma, who heard from Mary Margaret, that things between the two of you may be heating up for real.”

And  _ that _ kind of aggravates him, because of course he should’ve listened to his gut and actually told Mary Margaret that he didn’t want his relationship to be public news. Here he is, trying to very magnanimously accept that some secrets are okay to let go of, especially at his pace, only to have it backfire and end up with him losing complete control over it.

He realizes he must have gone silent for too long, or maybe she can just hear his angered breathing, because Regina says his name after a moment, like a question.

“I didn’t want people to know,” he gets out, wanting nothing more than to hang up and throw his phone in the ocean and then have Killian fuck the anger out of him. But he doesn’t, because for some reason he has to pretend like the things that drive him mad don’t. It’s called being an adult, and it sucks ass.

“Oh,” Regina says softly, apologetic in tone. He thinks it’s his turn to say something now but he refuses. Let her eat her guilt and speak again if she wants. “Why not?”

And of course it’d be that question, the one he doesn’t want to answer. Because he’s  _ scared _ that he’s not  _ worth _ being more than a friend to Killian, that’s why not. That there’s someone better for him out there, and he’ll get dumped, and then everyone would know him as the guy who couldn’t even get his best friend to love him.

In a move that surprises even him, he says as much. Those thoughts manifest in the real, and he spits them out on the phone to Regina.

“Sweetheart,” she starts to say, but whatever comes next is interrupted by Killian clearing his throat from the front of the cabin, causing David to swallow his forming tears and spin around. 

Killian looks sheepish and tentative, like a man who heard everything but doesn’t want to admit to it until David seems to hope he did. 

“I have to go,” David says suddenly, quickly ending the call and tossing the phone aside. “Mary Margaret told some people, I guess.” He’s trying his hardest to appear unflappable despite all evidence to the contrary.

Killian moves to the bed and takes a seat next to David, wrapping an arm around his back. They sit there in silence for a moment, and there’s a peace to it that David both desperately clings to and wants to reject for feeling so alien in the situation. “I can’t believe you think there’s anyone in the world better for me than you.”

David laughs, trying to not make it sound a little bitter and likely failing. “Sure there is. I’m no sailor; I don’t know shit about the ocean.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time despite that,” Killian says, turning to press his mouth against David’s cheek and kissing it softly. “And that’s not all that matters to me. Someone like me is not necessarily who I want to spend my time with, love. I told you yesterday, in the diner, that I was happy—”

“And here I am, ruining it,” David cuts in. But his body must reject whatever his brain is thinking, because he leans further into Killian’s embrace.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Everyone in the whole damn world should be jealous of me for having someone like you, someone who wants so badly to give his love only to me. But you don’t have to  _ suffer _ to do that, David. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t  _ want _ to know whatever person might have more in common with me. I want to search for fish that don’t exist with you, to tell you of other strange things that happen to me out on the water and know that you don’t mind that you’re dating someone who lives on a boat.”

David snorts at that, and Killian moves his head back to give him a look, one eyebrow arched. “Please, Kil. Half of your mail has been coming to my apartment for like five years. We pretty much live together.”

“Sure, I’d love to move in with you,” Killian says smoothly, big smile on his face. David laughs again, breath still kind of hitched with the sadness he’s trying to keep away, and it’s so wonderful to hear. “Seriously, David. You’re not gonna lose me, and you can’t agonize over what other people—our friends, by the way—think about our relationship.”

There’s a pause while David takes this in, exhaling a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. “Alright,” he says, looking Killian in the eyes and then leaning in for a kiss. Killian receives it gladly, tugging at David and desperate to get him closer.

When he pulls back for air: “Is that a yes to you not agonizing over our relationship or a yes to me moving in?”

“Both, obviously,” David shrugs. 

“Well it wasn’t really a great way to ask me to move in with you,” Killian says, smirk forming. “Pretty mediocre, actually.”

“You and your ego.” There’s a long-suffering sigh as David shakes his head. “I’d call you unbelievable but that’s not true. Alright then. Killian Jones, you vagrant sea dog. I love you. Drop your anchor in my waters and move in with me?”

Neither of them can keep a straight face at that. David collapses backwards on the bed, giving Killian reason to crawl on top of him and for them to start kissing once more, so much heat between them. They stay like that for several minutes, knowing by heart the places where their bodies fit around each other and reveling in it. Here they are, the picture of their own happiness: together, in love, out at sea.

“Before we, fuck,” Killian gasps out as David bites another kiss into his neck from below. “Before we go any further I need to drop the actual anchor. I don’t think I can afford another ship crashing into the rocks.”

“Not very romantic either,” David says, which earns him a hum of agreement. “Go on, but don’t be upset if I get naked without you if you take too long.”

It’s an empty threat; David would never deprive  _ himself _ of the pleasure of being stripped by Killian, attentive and a perfect mix of sloppy and meticulous. Still, Killian rolls out of the bed, erection very obvious in the confines of his pants, and probably would’ve continued to roll out of the cabin if he thought it was the best way of preserving momentum. Instead he half-jogs backwards, winking and blowing a kiss at David as he does.

David lounges there, taking in what he can feel of the breeze from the cabin’s open door and listening to Killian jump about the boat to get back to the cockpit and drop the anchor. There’s an audible splash when he does, and then a gentle tug on one side of the boat when it buries into the ocean floor below. Killian seems to take longer to get back to the cabin though, leaving David tempted to strip himself of at least the jacket, but then he appears in the doorway, looking awed.

“Hey,” he says. It’s a little subdued, and for a moment David is worried that Killian’s suddenly decided that David  _ isn’t _ right for him. But: “I think you should come see this.”

David, feeling cockblocked but intrigued, rolls out of bed too and goes to the door, where Killian takes his hand and leads him to the bow of the boat.

It’s breathtaking.

A wide patch of the ocean in front of the boat has lit up in the night, making what lies beneath the surface visible, clear as day. What could very likely be a thousand fish have schooled together, glowing in an iridescent swarm as they seem to set the stage for something. What starts as eight rings of fish, each a different color, evolves into an iridescent rainbow swarm as the rings begin to interlock, the fish dancing around each other. Killian and David watch it for multiple minutes, various shapes taking form in the background as the fish answer some ancient urge to dance. After starting clumped up by color, by the end they seem to have perfectly separated so that no one fish is neighbors with a fish of the same color, and it forms a picture.

It’s of what appears to be the top of a lighthouse, where two men—one dressed in very regal attire and one dressed in a pirate’s coat and a tricorn hat—are having lunch together.

“I wonder who they are,” Killian whispers.

“What a mystery,” David says.

The stars shine above them.

//

They stay out watching the ocean until almost two in the morning, only realizing how late it’s gotten when David yawns deeply. The fish had swarmed around in the lit-up ocean for a while after the lighthouse picture, forming a few other fantastic shapes and sights, all of which kept the two captivated for hours, late into the night. When it ended, the water grew dark again, though the multi-colored scales of the fish remained slightly visible, sometimes sparkling under the waves. They talked and talked about nothing in particular; parts of their lives, as if they hadn’t lived through almost all of their twenties as friends, and parts of lives that may or may not have been theirs, with no real reason to it. 

There was just something that felt good about reliving parts of your life with someone you love.

"We should get back,” Killian says after David’s yawn. “We’ve been out on the water for a long time. To the apartment?”

“To  _ our _ apartment,” David confirms. He’s tired, but delighted enough to be in Killian’s continued company that he turns down the idea of catching a nap while they sail back to the marina. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine for later.”

“For later?”

“Well yeah.” David’s all grin, a look that usually sits more on Killian’s face but looks just as devilishly charming on his. “When we get back to the apartment,  _ one _ of us is getting fucked. That’s for sure.”

“Oh yeah? Lucky guy,” Killian answers, wrapping his arm around David’s back again. “Are we flipping a coin for it, or are you volunteering?”

David hums, breath hot on Killian’s neck. “Actually, I was thinking you might volunteer.” He presses his lips to Killian’s skin and a chill runs down his spine at the sensation

Not that he even would’ve said no if David had simply asked to fuck him, but this was something else. This was like… everything about David felt magnified. His presence, his charm, his love; all were threefold, and all were focused directly in that moment onto Killian, who was now painfully hard and thinking about David fucking him. “Yeah,” he says, breath hitching. “I like that idea.”

It takes them most of the hour to get back to the marina and tie up the  _ Jolliest Roger _ , at which point it’s closing in on three. But David doesn’t seem any more interested in sleeping than he did on the boat, and if anything he keeps himself as close as possible to Killian as they walk back to his car. It’s a quick drive back to the apartment complex, and one that David knows so perfectly, even in the dark, that he drives with one hand on the wheel and one hand locked with Killian’s.

He might’ve originally been going for Killian’s crotch for some early foreplay, but holding hands is perfectly fine.

David kisses him hard when they park outside the apartment, almost leaning his elbow on the horn and disturbing the entire neighborhood in his rush to get his mouth back on Killian’s. But the crisis is averted and they climb up to the third floor, to their apartment, which is where things hit a small snag.

Robin lives in the apartment across the hall from David, and he’s there on the landing with his keys in his door when they get there, hands interlocked. Killian feels David’s reflex to try and pull away before Robin sees them, and David looks at him sheepishly, but Killian just smiles and lets go. As easy as possible for the both of them. They’re telling people on David’s terms, and Killian’s alright with that.

“Hey, boys,” Robin says quietly when he unlocks his door and catches sight of them walking towards David’s. “Out all night, huh? Didn’t see you at the bar. What were you two up to?”

“Fishing,” David says, at the same time as Killian says “Sailing.”

“Sounds like a good time. Not often I see you coming rather than going, Kil.”

Killian blushes slightly, and Robin doesn’t ask  _ why _ Killian would be going into David’s apartment at three in the morning, and David catches both of these things and has to suppress his groan. This is the time that Killian usually leaves to go to the boat in the morning if he’s stayed over, and it’s the time that Robin would pretty frequently get home from closing up the bar. The number of times they’ve probably passed each other on this very landing—well, it was probably more than one. Doesn’t really  _ take _ more than one for Robin to figure out what they were doing, either.

It’s like a damn  _ farce _ in this town, he swears. If he tells a single person that he’s dating Killian and they act surprised, he’s officially calling bullshit.

But the good news is that  _ this _ development, he takes in stride. So Robin probably caught Killian doing his walk of shame months ago, and then caught him again and put two and two together. Clearly this wasn’t world-class news to him, and the man ran a bar for a living. Sometimes a good story is all a bartender has, and yet it took until now for other people to start figuring out that something was actually going on between them. So two things from that: first, Robin was a really stand-up guy you could trust a secret with; second, there was conclusive proof that Killian was right and David was wrong. There’s no point in agonizing over what their friends think about their relationship. Quite the world-affirming point, and a good one.

The bad news is that David gets so caught up in his head thinking about this and patting himself on the back that he zones out entirely from the conversation in the hallway, leaving Robin and Killian both staring and not staring at him. After a moment, Robin wishes the two of them a good night and slips into his apartment. Killian, uncomfortable, clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” David says, snapping out of it. “Oh, Robin left?”

“Yeah,” Killian says slowly, because David’s face is unreadable. But he gives a smile to Killian and digs his keys out of his pocket, opening up the space that would henceforth be known as  _ their _ apartment. When the door closes behind him, Killian tries again: “David, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about this?”

David, who was about a third of a second from pushing Killian up against the door and kissing him deeply, looks confused. “You’re sorry about what? Robin? Killian, it’s fine.”

“Is it? Because you’re being really great about not worrying about this, but it’s okay if you’re upset.”

And a small fragment of him  _ is _ upset, yes, but it’s upset because of how long he spent worrying that something which could never ruin his relationship with Killian was going to do just that. It’s a lot of self-deprecation to look at and say, dang, that fucking sucked. But it’s good that it’s over, and David knows that, and right now he wants to fuck his boyfriend instead of thinking about how stressed this knowledge would’ve made him a week ago.

“I promise,” he says instead of all that, because it saves him time. “You told me it’s nothing to worry about, and I believe you.”

Killian still looks a little unconvinced, not because he expects David to lie but because he doesn’t want someone he loves so dearly to shut him out. “I just thought you wanted to tell people on your terms. I mean, I never…  _ explicitly _ said anything to Robin.”

David’s half a second away from cursing Robin’s very existence, not because he knows but because he’s  _ emotionally cockblocking _ Killian somehow. There’s a sigh, and David hears himself saying “Wait here” before opening the door again and walking back into the hallway before he knows exactly what he’s doing. Killian stands in the doorway behind him, watching. David walks over to Robin’s door and knocks, loud enough to be heard but with respect for the hour.

It takes a moment, but Robin does answer. He’s traded his bartending outfit for a loose shirt and sweatpants, though David doubts he was wearing the latter before he had to answer the door, and he’s holding a can of cat food. “Hey, David. Something up?”

“You have a cat?” David says, because his brain needs a moment to catch up and figure out exactly what he was  _ supposed _ to say when Robin answered, and because this is in fact news to him.

Robin pauses, knowing that there’s no way in hell that this is actually what David knocked on his door for, but nods. “Yeah. Hey boy,” he calls into the apartment. A moment later, a gray cat jumps onto his shoulder from a nearby bookcase, looking at David.

Looking at him with its single yellow eye.

“This is Kraken,” Robin continues. “Just adopted him a few days ago. You might’ve seen him around, he seems to like to explore the place.”

David turns to Killian and gives him a look. It’s a look that says  _ ‘holy fuck, we saw those glowing fish, right? what if this cat is really a sea monster that wants to eat your boat?’ _ which is somehow completely discernable on David’s face. Killian just shrugs.

“Robin,” David says, turning back to look at his neighbor who is scratching Kraken under his chin. “I had something I wanted to tell you.”

“Sure,” Robin says easily, like it isn’t three in the morning after his night at work.

“I’m fucking Killian.”

It’s not  _ super _ graceful, but it’s true!

Robin nods, because of course he knew that, so David continues. “I mean, well, you probably figured that out. But we weren’t telling people because I thought that it was better kept a secret, and now I’m trying to be better about that and Killian thinks I’m hiding something, so I came over here to tell you that I’m fucking Killian, and that Killian is fucking me, because I love him. I really, deeply love him, and I want to be his boyfriend for as long as he’ll have me.”

It feels a little awkward at this point, expressing this to Robin when he’s obviously not the person it’s meant for. To his benefit, Robin doesn’t laugh or express surprise whatsoever. He just nods again, and points behind David. “I think he knows.” And he’s right, because Killian is  _ beaming _ . His normal smile is dazzling, but this one knocks the lights out in David’s head and then installs new ones. He’s away from the doorway now, in the hall, grabbing at David’s shirt and pulling him into the hottest kiss either of them has ever had in their lives. 

If Robin says anything about them retreating immediately back into David’s apartment, they don’t hear it.

It’s a struggle to get to the bed with each of them trying to undress the other  _ and _ make out at the same time. It was hours ago that they were supposed to be doing this, getting each other naked out on the boat, and both of their patience for the romantic side of stripping has gone out the window. Instead, they get romantic by seeing who can press their face against the other’s harder. Killian wins that one in a domineering fashion with a kiss that leaves David starstruck for a moment, but then he falls backwards onto the bed, naked, and lets David climb on top of him, so they both feel about even.

David spoons into Killian slightly so that he can use his hand to grab for his boyfriend’s cock while they kiss. Killian opens up his mouth in a moan, noise stifled by David’s own mouth but felt through both of their bodies. David moves slightly southward, leaving kisses and bitemarks at Killian’s collarbone. It wasn’t something he’d been into before they started dating and Killian started marking him where others couldn’t see, and now he lives for the way it made Killian’s cock swell in his hand to be kissed like that.

There’s a moment where David briefly considers what part of Killian he wants to kiss next: his muscled arms, his face again, maybe a nipple? But there’s a heat radiating off of Killian so strongly, and his eyes are so bloodshot with desire that David knows he has work to do and fast. They’ve had slower, time-consuming sex before, but this they want to be hot and messy and there’s no time to waste.

He kisses down Killian’s chest, savoring how strong the scent of him is here, with drops of the ocean and sweat caught on his fuzzy chest and mingling. It’s David’s favorite smell in the whole world. Killian’s favorite smell in the whole world is David, post-sex. Knowing this, David slides down the bed so that his head is between Killian’s thighs. Killian’s cock is in one hand, his own is in his other.

David takes Killian’s balls into his mouth first, one at a time, enjoying the way it causes Killian to seem to vibrate with energy as he moans. He works Killian’s cock with his hand too, thankful that both of them are well beyond their early days of sex, where this might’ve been enough to make them lose it. Instead, Killian encourages him on, and David puts his cock in his mouth and slides down, wet and sloppy. 

The noise that comes out of Killian is pure bliss. David works Killian’s cock with his tongue, alternating between long, slow movements all the way down and faster, intense movements up close to the head. They both keep Killian squirming under him, one hand reaching to grab the back of David’s hair lightly and encouraging him further down. He complies until he’s suppressed his gag reflex entirely, all of Killian’s cock in his mouth, balls pressed against his chin. Killian’s cock throbs hard when he gasps, and David knows just how sensitive everything feels to Killian right now, so he sticks as much of his tongue out as he can and licks at the top of Killian’s ballsack.

He wouldn’t have blamed Killian if he came right then and there, especially after the  _ noise _ he makes, all pleasure and heat. But he doesn’t, though he’s close, and David wants to prolong this, so he pulls all the way off and climbs back up to Killian’s mouth, kissing him again. Killian starts to move like he’s going to swap places and blow David, but David keeps him down, the two of them trading looks that tell each other everything.

David grabs for the lube in his drawer and starts slicking up two of his fingers on his right hand. He keeps the left clean, but it ends up covered in his own spit as he keeps working Killian’s cock with it. The two fingers go into Killian’s ass simultaneously. It’s been just over a week since they last fucked with David on top, and Killian’s ass feels tight but receptive to their entrance, the man himself so blissfully relaxed while David works him over. David stretches him gently at first, switching slowly between pushing his fingers deeper and spreading them at different angles, getting Killian’s hole to open up.

It’s an agonizing two minutes while David works him up to the third finger, and Killian is so glad that David’s other hand can do so much magic on his cock independently. The third finger gets slicked and inserted too, and from that point it’s basically showtime. David fucks Killian with the three fingers a few times just for good measure, but then he’s out and pouring the lube onto his cock, head aimed directly for Killian’s opening.

Having sex with David is the greatest feeling in the whole world for Killian, because it’s heavenly both to put his cock inside of David’s amazing ass  _ and _ to feel David push into him. Where David could feel Killian’s cock throbbing inside his mouth, now Killian feels the brutal heat of David radiating into him from his asshole as David’s first three inches replicate the feeling of the finger-fucking and then some. David’s not absolutely massive, but he’s long and thick enough that Killian can feel every fraction of an inch that gets inserted into him and takes them all with a gasp.

“All the way, baby,” David says when he finally bottoms out, the entire length of his cock inside of Killian. He can already feel himself pressing at Killian’s prostate and knows it’s causing him to squirm with absolute pleasure, leaving him voiceless, so he changes angles slightly to bump even more into it, and then draws his cock back and begins fucking Killian.

He starts as slow as he can bring himself to, given how desperate the both of them are. Killian’s first gasp when David’s cock slams into him again is not the loudest or the most desperate he’ll have all night, but it causes so much sensation to roll through David too that he has to steady himself so as not to shoot his load early. He trades his clean left hand on Killian’s dick for his lubed-up right hand, slickness helping him match the rhythm of his handjob to the rhythm he’s fucking into Killian.

They can both take a lot, but it’s so hard to not want to give everything easily to each other. David wants desperately for them both to last as long as possible, but at the same time he wants Killian to know just how  _ hot _ fucking him is, how fast it makes him lose control of himself. And Killian is making these  _ noises _ that David doesn’t think it’d be possible to replicate if they weren’t fucking, which is a damn shame because they’re the most erotic thing he’s ever heard. He keeps fucking into Killian, eyes wild with love, both of them feeling like they’re going to lose it any moment from the very beginning, and only holding on through stubbornness alone.

In the end, Killian comes first. Which is fair, considering he got the blowjob and has had David working his dick for a solid fifteen minutes straight by the time he loses it, first gasping raggedly in David’s grasp and then letting out a half-yell as David’s hand brings him over the edge. He shoots in four bursts all over his chest, one of them flying up and splattering across some of the bite marks David left on his collarbone.

David’s coming by the time he sees that, Killian’s ass tightening around his cock as the orgasm rolls through him, squeezing away at David’s only chance of keeping composure. But there’s no point in holding back once Killian’s had his orgasm, and so David rides the wave of pleasure and lets it take him too, cock swelling deep within Killian and leaving David’s mark behind.

David pulls out slowly, grabbing at the towels and tissues he keeps nearby and doing his best to clean Killian up while focusing most of his attention on the amazing kiss they instantly launch into once David’s had his orgasm. 

Killian grabs him, tugs him close against his chest, and keeps him there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _We could fly to Ireland_   
>  _You know I'm good for the ticket_   
>  _Try to smirk but you're smiling_   
>  _Know I'll stick with it_   
>  _[Annie I want you to marry me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9GQcS8WSgDw) _

David’s second alarm goes off.

It means he’s missed his first one, the one that came way too early. The one that came just three and a half hours after he and Killian both came, lost in pleasure at the end of a very long night out on the ocean.

When he reaches over to shut it off, Killian’s body gets in the way, causing him to throw one arm over his boyfriend instead. Killian, still mostly asleep, takes it as his cue to push himself closer into David, which in turn causes David to tighten his grip on Killian. They both sleep-sigh contentedly.

The alarm continues to ring. This is exactly the problem that has caused the first alarm ten minutes earlier to go unanswered until it shut itself off. The second alarm, however, is designed to really kick David’s ass and get him out of bed, so it keeps going and going until David’s eyes eventually shoot open two minutes later, brain finally catching on. He stretches enough over Killian’s form to shut the alarm off, but in the process presses his chest into Killian’s nose, shutting off enough air flow for him to wake up and writhe out of the uncomfortable position.

“Fuck,” Killian groans, saying what both of them were thinking. “Why do you have this stupid job that makes you get up so early?”

“You’d have been out fishing for an hour already if you hadn’t stayed here,” David says back, rubbing at his eyes. “Good morning, though. I’m happy to see you.”

“What was I gonna do, go back in time and leave the apartment before we even arrived together? Sounds like a pretty shitty thing to do to my boyfriend. My boyfriend who asked me to move in with him last night, by the way.”

“You seem really thrilled about that for someone who has literally already been living with me in name for years.”

“It’s my first time co-owning something you don’t have to tie down to make sure it doesn’t drift away,” Killian says, happy smile on his face. It’s cute enough for David to ignore the fact that he’s technically wrong, since it’s not like Killian’s name suddenly appeared on the lease overnight, and it’s not like they got married,  _ but _ .

It sure does feel good to hear Killian so delighted. Maybe this is what having a relationship and not being paranoid about it all the time is like. Maybe today is the  _ real _ first day of their relationship. The last five months? All foreplay.

And if they led to that incredible sex last night then, well, definitely worth it. Even if it did suck that they both had fewer than four hours of sleep.

“You know,” David says, still halfway on top of Killian from rolling over to turn off the alarm. “If we showered together we’d still have time to grab breakfast at Granny’s before I have to go to work. Assuming you’re not going out on the boat, that is.”

“I think I’d drown trying to get onto the boat in my current state, love. And we don’t want that, so it looks like I’m scrubbing your back for you this morning.”

“You can come to work with me and scrub the floors too.”

Killian gives him an unimpressed look, which David returns with a kiss.

The shower is fairly successful. They’re both too tired—and cramped, damn apartment—to try and act on their arousals when they press up against each other and split the body wash. David runs his hands through Killian’s hair at one point, rinsing out the suds of shampoo, and Killian wraps his arms around his waist when he does so, tugging him into a kiss that ends up with Killian pressed against the shower wall. But that’s as far as it goes before the idea of missing breakfast crosses both of them, and they emerge hard but with nobody to blame but themselves.

They both use too much hairspray, leaving David in mourning over the bottle he just bought less than a week earlier. It’s Killian’s fault, really, for wanting to try and show David what he’d look like with more of a fauxhawk than a pompadour. It had been hot, leading to Killian kissing him deeply up against the wall of his bathroom, and that had almost encouraged David to leave it that way for the day. But then he’d caught sight of himself and he really just couldn’t help but fix it. And it cost him his bottle of hairspray in the process.

That’s the price of love and war, folks.

They manage to disentangle enough to walk like normal people down to David’s car, but they spend the entire drive to Granny’s holding hands again, just as they had done the night before. It felt like a whole new relationship somehow, and though they weren’t screaming it out into the world they also weren’t afraid to tackle it head-on.

At Granny’s, Ruby clears away someone’s discarded plate from their favorite table and brings them the coffee and waffles they order, asking David if he thinks she could pick up the roller derby fliers after her shift but not saying anything about the electricity between the two of them. Which seems a little weird, considering Killian is almost definitely sure that someone  _ so inclined _ as her—and he uses air quotes there when he says it David, but David just rolls his eyes at the lack of tact—would be able to tell that they were being more flirtatious than usual.

Which they were. 

David knocks his feet against Killian’s more than once throughout breakfast; lets Killian eat off his plate without trying to stab him with a fork; asks politely for Killian to pass him the sugar packets even after he hoard them to himself. Killian passes him one with a seductive wink instead of attempting to flip it into his mug, still encased in the packet. They laugh, more rambunctious than they’ve been in public together since their early days as friends, back when they were 23.

And Ruby doesn’t call them out on  _ any _ of it until Killian says he’s footing the bill for both of them.

“Alright,” she says, hands on her hips, sighing at them like she was actually going to let them be until now. “What’s going on with you two? Killian never does this; he either pays for just himself or David pays for both of you. Are you banging?”

“Yes,” Killian says triumphantly, at the same time that David says nothing because he’s gone red, smile still on his face. “Have been for months, love.”

Ruby looks back and forth between them, Killian beaming and David embarrassed by still proud to have it out there, and nods. “I bet I can guess your anniversary.”

“What makes you so sure?” Killian jumps on it immediately, enticed by the prospect of the bet, though David also wants to see where this is going.   


“I see you two pretty much every other day,” Ruby says, confident look already in place, like she’s already seen the future and knows she has the winning lottery numbers. “I already have an answer in mind. So, within two days and David doesn’t charge me for the roller derby fliers. Anything else and breakfast is free.”

“You’re on,” Killian says, depriving David of any opportunity to bargain his way out of it having to be  _ him _ who loses the bet instead of Killian.

Ruby swaps her look to David, knowing that he’ll be less likely to hide his surprise if she’s right. “December fourth.”

And even Killian looks amazed at that, both of them sharing a glance, wondering if they’ve been played. Killian stammers something first. “How the hell did you—”

“It’s the day before,” David answers, since Killian looks like he’s about to jump out of his seat in surprise and claim Ruby’s a witch. “Seriously, did you already know?”

Ruby makes a full-body gesture at herself and then at both of them. “We’re alike, you boys know that. But no, I had a very specific memory in mind when I picked that date.”

“Tell us,” Killian begs, fascinated.

“Well, on December fifth the two of you came in here together and I remember thinking that David looked so uncomfortable the whole time, like he was anxious the police were looking for him.” David remembers that; it was their first semi-public appearance since he’d mentioned to Killian that he didn’t want anyone to know about them dating. “I asked you if you were feeling well and you stumbled through some  _ obviously _ bullshit story about how you’d given Mary Margaret the fliers for Regina’s masquerade ball instead of the school’s Christmas play. As if it was eating you alive. Come on, David.”

Killian laughs at that, which causes Ruby to turn on him. “Except that wasn’t actually what clued me in. It was you, Killian. You sat there watching David the whole time, not even laughing at how ridiculous the story sounded. You were just smiling and staring at him like his breath smelled like rum and the ocean, or whatever it is you like. I knew you had it bad for him then, so I figured you two must’ve gotten together the day before.”

“He asked me out on the third,” David says, since Killian’s now leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, giving Ruby a fake glare. “The fourth was our first kiss.” He looks to Killian, grinning. “I guess we should’ve seen this coming, since everyone else in this damn town already seemed to figure it out.”

“Does Mary Margaret finally know?” Ruby asks, rolling her eyes. “She’s been asking me for weeks if something was going on between you two, like I would know because I see you all the time.”

“You… literally did,” Killian points out, which gets Ruby to give him a sigh, like he just doesn’t understand.

“Have a good day, gentlemen,” she says, turning back to the counter.

//

He’s twenty minutes late for opening Prints Charming, having slept through the first alarm and still detouring for breakfast with Killian, but that’s alright. There is no crowd of angry customers, desperate for ink or paper or printing services, when he arrives with Killian still in tow.

“It’s too late to go fishing now,” he had said, when asking to bum around with David all day instead. And then, “Okay, fine. I don’t want to. I want to spend today with you,” when David had given him a look in the parking lot of Granny’s diner and asked him exactly when _ time _ had ever stopped him from sailing before.

So here they are, connected at the hip and entwined at the wrist, David fiddling with the keys to Prints Charming with his left hand and the finesse of a toddler trying to push a square block in a round hole.

“Allow me,” Killian says, twisting the key properly with his free hand and then gesturing magnanimously as if performing miracle work. “See? Boyfriends are useful for more than being just dashingly handsome.”

“Yeah, you’re also a delightful pain in the ass.”

“ _ My _ ass begs to differ with that one, love,” Killian retorts. “You know, it’s not proper to fuck someone like that and then expect them to pay for breakfast and open doors for you. It’s not even proper to expect them to be functional six hours later, but here you are.”

“Here I am indeed,” David shakes his head. “It’s amazing how you put up with me. Must be good rum.”

“The very best,” Killian says, but he’s making eye contact when he does, flirtations abound. “So what am I helping you with today?”

_ Helping _ might be a stretch for what Killian intends to do in Prints Charming for eight hours, but David will humor him. “Well  _ somebody _ recently made me lose a bet about some roller derby fliers, so I need to finish those before Ruby stops by. And then Regina will lose her mind if I don’t get this photo album back to her as soon as possible, so I have to finish Henry’s collage too.”

“Are you being paid for that either?”

David pauses, wracking his brain for the memory of Henry coming in with Mary Margaret to see if there was any promise of David getting anything out of creating the collage. “Uh. I don’t know.”

“Kid’s good,” Killian says, shrugging. “Could’ve been a pirate three hundred years ago, I’d bet.”

There’s an amused noise from David as he shuffles things around on his counter. “There’s a couple of other things I need to do today, too.”

Which is how Killian ends up spending the rest of his morning harassing the shit out of David with helpful comments such as:

  * “Wait, wait, go back a page. Look! It’s a picture of Henry wielding a lightsaber. That should go in the collage for sure. What’s it for again?”
  * “You should put a topless girl on the roller derby flier. What? I mean because of the mermaids I saw playing it. Ruby would love it! Don’t give me that look, David.”
  * “We should bring back themed stationary. I could get a nautical address book. Or a naughty address book filled with pictures of you. Can you make calendars here?”



There’s a reason that David takes so much joy in his work life and Killian’s not intersecting, and for a brief moment of weakness he had forgotten what it was. Lesson learned.

Fortunately, he’s saved from more of Killian’s hassling after lunch by a series of events that starts with Mary Margaret walking through the door once again.

“Hi, boys,” she says, looking between them and smiling, clearly glad to see them together after the tension the day before. “No boat today, Kil?”

“Not enlightening the bright minds of our youth today, Double-M?”

Mary Margaret shoots David a quick glance at the nickname, but he just shrugs. Killian at his work after only a few hours of sleep is about as predictable as Killian normally, which is to say not very, even to David. “Too much fun with pizza and rum last night, Kil? It’s Saturday.”

“What?” Killian says, genuine surprise on his face. “It is? You knew this?” He’s pointing at David as if he’s kept some actual secret from him. 

“Sure,” David says, but it’s slow and methodical like he’s having to double-check that Mary Margaret isn’t pulling a fast one on both of them. “Was there something I was supposed to remind you to do today?”

Killian shakes his head but pulls his phone out, waving his other hand to tell them to carry on with the conversation without him.

“If you’re here to collect either the collage or the photo album on one of the Mills’ behalf, I’m afraid that I’m not quite ready to give either of them up.”

“No, I actually had something I wanted to ask you David.” Mary Margaret fiddles with the clasp on her purse for a moment, looking nervous, and for a moment David’s concerned that she’s going to bribe him to help her with something illegal. Or to ask him out in front of his boyfriend, but that one doesn’t make any sense. “You live in the same apartment complex as Robin, right?”

The memory of last night—David standing in front of Robin’s door, telling him in no uncertain words that he’s fucking Killian because he’s in love with him, all while Robin is just trying to feed his damn cat—comes rushing back. “Uh, yeah. He lives across the hall from me. What about it?”

“Oh, how I wish I could stay to hear how  _ this _ conversation goes,” Killian butts in, placing his phone back in his pocket. “But I have something very important to do at the marina. I’ll meet you at the apartment after work. With food,” he adds, when David starts to frown. “Mary Margaret, lovely to see you as always. Have a good day, love.” He wraps one arm around David’s neck and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek, winking at Mary Margaret as he pulls away. “You should probably tell her what happened before Robin does, by the way.”

“Don’t make it sound so scandalous, Kil,” David mumbles, touching the cheek Killian kissed and feeling the heat of his own blush. “See you later, alligator.”

Instead of responding, Killian shudders an imperceptible amount as he leaves Prints Charming.

“Seems like last night went very well for you,” Mary Margaret says once David’s done watching his boyfriend go. “Care to share with the class?”

David huffs. “I have you to both thank and blame, I guess. Finally got my head out of my ass and realized it didn’t spell doom for our relationship if people knew about it.”

“It’s been going on for a while then?”

“Since December, yeah.”

“Five months, wow. Surprising dedication to secrecy on Killian’s part,” she says, looking almost impressed. David doesn’t really blame her, he was shocked too when Killian hadn’t spent the night after their first date yelling about it into the wind on his boat, loud enough for everyone in Storybrooke to hear. He’d been quite drunk. “But knowing you two, I guess I wouldn’t have been too surprised if it was longer. What was he talking about with Robin, though?” She goes slightly red suddenly, like a traitorous thought has crossed her mind. “Uh, but only if it’s polite to ask.”

David’s glad he wasn’t drinking anything, because he splutters enough as is when he catches her drift. “No! Mary Margaret, no, Killian and I did not have a threesome with Robin. Why was that the first thing you thought of?”

“Well the two of you seemed so happy! And I just thought that maybe—”

“We didn’t need Robin to intermediate our relationship!” Which is funny, kinda, because in a very small way he sort of did. “We ran into him last night when we were coming back from the boat at like three in the morning. Hey, don’t judge,” he adds, watching her eyebrows rise. “It was a very nice night out on the boat. But Robin was there, and Killian was trying to make sure I was okay with him realizing we were together, and so I pretty much barged in on him feeding his cat and told him that I loved Killian.”

Mary Margaret is silent for a moment, nodding. She bites her lip for a moment. “Is… is ‘feeding his cat’ a metaphor?”

“No!”

“Then why was it part of the story!” David just shrugs. “Well, good to know he has a cat. Thanks for the helpful information.”

“You didn’t ask me for anything!”

“Oh, right,” Mary Margaret says, realizing that she didn’t actually explain to David why she was asking about Robin. “I’m going on a date with him in a few hours, before he opens the bar. I just wanted to know what you thought of him.”

“He’s a nice man who doesn’t get involved in gay threesomes the night before a date with the prettiest woman in town,” David says, flipping through an old notebook. “Likes archery, beer, and sea monster mythology. Oh, the cat’s name is Kraken,” he explains when he catches her confused look. “He helped Graham give that seminar on drunk driving at the school, of course. You were there. Here, look. He asked me to design a birthday card a few months ago. These are the ideas he gave me.”

Written in the notebook is a very childlike drawing of a bow firing an arrow at a balloon, below which are the words “Happy Bowthday.”

“So maybe not the most creative guy,” David continues. “But a nice one.”

“You really think I’m the prettiest woman in town?”

“Nobody else comes to visit my shop nearly as much, so yeah I’ll stick with what I said.” Mary Margaret gives him an unimpressed look, which David then returns. “Although you did bring an entire class of students to me unannounced yesterday, which might bump you down some. Luckily for you my opinion doesn’t matter, seeing as how I’m dating the local Captain Nemo.”

“He’s really more of an Ahab, David.”

“I know,” David sighs. “But I can dream.”

Mary Margaret, satisfied that her inquisition netted her exactly what she wanted to know  _ and _ more, leaves Prints Charming, wishing David well on his projects. She’s not subtle at all about pulling out her phone and dialing someone as soon as she leaves the store, which leaves David fairly unsurprised when he looks at his phone three minutes later and sees texts from both Emma and Regina congratulating him on “getting more serious” with Killian.

Good lord, everyone in town is so nosy.

It makes him smile.

//

Killian has a secret.

Well, it’s less of a secret and more of a surprise, which is why he barges into the apartment without even letting David know he was on the way, carrying an icebox that holds the remnants of two fish. “Hey, love. Nice calves. Is your passport in date?”

David, stripped down to his underwear in the middle of changing after his long day of performing free design services for apparently half of the town, raises an eyebrow. “Should be. Tell me that’s not a severed head in the icebox and we’re not fleeing to Canada?”

Killian sets the icebox down and moves to David, pushing him down into the couch and straddling his lap. “That depends,” he says, hooking his arms around David’s back and feeling the muscle. “Would you really run away with me?”

David tugs him forward so that Killian’s mouth is just above his own, leaning up for the kiss and then sliding his hands down to grab his ass through his jeans. “That depends too. Theoretically, whose head is in this icebox?”

“One haddock, one cod. Caught ‘em and cleaned ‘em myself when I was at the marina earlier.”

“And I take it we’re fleeing to Canada because you poached them from the mafia’s waters?”

“As any good pirate would,” Killian winks, kissing David again and dislodging himself. He moves to the kitchen to prep his catch, David following behind him. “There’s a trip I’ve been wanting to take.”

David tries his best to hide his grunt of displeasure but Killian was looking for it, feeling the brief heat on the back of his neck as David huffs. He’s quiet for a moment, lightly touching Killian’s back as they organize breadcrumbs and lemon and the oven. “Where to?”

“Do you remember about a year after we met, I sailed up to Baffin Island in the spring?”

“Sure,” David nods. “You stayed for like a month, watching the seals whelp. Said it was the best time of your life. ‘I’d love to go back to the icy north,’ you’d cry when drunk. It was all you talked about that year.”

“Wow, past-me sounds so obnoxious when you imitate him.”

“Are you thinking of going back?” David kisses the back of his neck, and it’s sweet, but Killian can feel the way it’s tinged with hesitation, like he’s doing it to stop himself from asking him not to go.

“Well we’re too late for the seals,” Killian says, turning around so that he’s face to face with David, grinning. “But I had the boat checked today for long-voyage seaworthiness, and I was thinking it’s been too long since I’d been away from Storybrooke. So. You, me, the  _ Jolliest Roger _ . Next weekend. Nova Scotia?”

David looks stunned for a moment while he unpacks the question, then gets a cautiously optimistic smile on his face. “You want me to go with you?”

“Well, I wasn’t asking about your passport for the government’s sake.” Killian turns around, grabbing David’s hands and grinning at him in that  _ way _ he does that sets David’s world on fire. “I’ve always wanted to do one last big voyage out of here before I turn thirty and finally grow up. I thought I was gonna take Smee along, but then the man of my dreams started telling people that I was the man of his dreams too, so now I think I want him to be my first mate.”

“If you put it that way, I can’t imagine he’d turn you down,” David says, and Killian’s grin grows wider. “Yes, Kil, of course I’ll sail to Canada with you. Why the hell not, right? If you’re dating a sailor, may as well take advantage of his sweet boat.”

Killian hums thoughtfully. “I think you’re just scared to let me out of your sight for too long, in case I go galavanting off with those mermaids I found.”

David rolls his eyes. “You tried to avoid me for two days when you got back from Baffin all those years ago because you thought I would’ve found someone else to be my best friend, as if we didn’t already know back then that we could never escape each other.”

“You make it sound far less romantic than it is,” Killian sighs. “Especially standing here in your underwear. Where’s your flair for the dramatic, David? A swashbuckling hero and his lover, the most charming man in the world. That’s what fairytales are made of, aren’t they?”

“That’s not exactly how the ones I’ve read go, but sure, Kil.”

“When we get back from Nova Scotia we can write a new one. Give it to Henry for his birthday.”

David can’t help but laugh at the idea of Killian sitting down to write a fairytale about a sailor who takes his boyfriend to Canada. It seems so ridiculous, and yet here he is. In the last twenty-four hours he’s seen glowing, dancing fish  _ and _ started going public about his relationship, so maybe there’s more magic in the world than he realized.

“How long do you think we’ll be gone for?” David asks, a few minutes later, fish baking in the oven and Killian’s hand dangerously close to the seam of his underwear as they sit huddled together on the couch. “I’ll need to close the shop.”

“At least a week,” Killian says, slipping one thumb under David’s waistband and immediately having it relocated as David grabs that hand in his. “Spoilsport. Good thing you have the king’s ransom to keep you going, right?”

The king’s ransom was what Killian had refused to stop calling the inheritance David had gotten. There’s an unimpressed look on his face, and it’s not lost on Killian.

“I mean, we’re going to Canada for my last great adventure before I become one of those boring normal fishermen who scares kids by telling them that he saw someone get eaten by a shark. I’m serious, don’t look at me like that! I bet by this time next year I’ll have aged twenty years, and you’ll wonder how I ever tied you down.”

“Lucky that you learned all of those knots when you got your boating license, isn’t it?”

//

On Sunday, Killian shows up to the apartment with an old-fashioned nautical chart of the Gulf of Maine, already marked with the route he wants to take. It’s surprisingly straightforward: a direct, almost purely horizontal route from Storybrooke to Yarmouth, the way all the tourist ferries do it. 

“We’ll need to stop at that point anyway to refuel the  _ Jolliest Roger _ ,” he says, shrugging, when David comments that it doesn’t seem like a very grand voyage. “I was thinking afterward we’d catch the end of the lobster fishing season at Cape Sable and then sail up to Halifax.” He points to other places on the map and starts drawing broken lines connecting them. “This isn’t just a one stop trip, love. Uncharted waters must be explored.”

David lets that slide, because Killian grabs his hand and looks so incredibly pleased to be discussing this with him. “How long is this original trip gonna take?”

“Ten, twelve hours if the winds favor us. Longer if not. So we leave Saturday at dawn and show up in Yarmouth hopefully before sunset, or at least before midnight.”

“Your life is hell,” David sighs.

“You’ll come around to it, I know it.”

The look that Killian gives him is so  _ smug _ and  _ attractive _ that David finds himself powerless to resist the urge to tug him into bed just to wipe it off his face, but all that does is make Killian look satisfied and happy instead. With the nautical chart completely abandoned on the coffee table, they don’t emerge from the tangle of bedsheets until two hours later, when David begrudgingly has to grab his phone in order to call for food.

“You’re lazy as hell on Sunday,” Killian says after they eat, when David tugs him back towards the bed.

“I just promised you a second blowjob,” David says, slightly offended. “If anything, I’m working harder right now than I do all week. Just for a self-serving cause. Not all of us have what it takes to work seven days a week. You included,” he adds, when Killian looks a little too self-righteous. “You didn’t sail at all yesterday, and you can’t have been out for long this morning. I hope you’re paying Smee well for whatever it is he does for you.”

“I do, and I’m sure he’d be delighted to go on such an exciting voyage as this one if you don’t feel you’re up to the task.”

David rolls on top of Killian, pinning him down and grinning at him from above. “And you can leave  _ our _ bed in  _ our _ apartment any time you want. But you’re still here.”   


“All captains have their weakness,” Killian rasps out, throat suddenly dry, when David pushes one hand under the seam of his boxers once again.

...

On Monday, David opens Prints Charming and immediately designs and prints a sign announcing that the shop will be closed for a week starting on Saturday while he’s out of town. All projects started by Wednesday evening will be completed before his vacation, but anything after that will have to wait. That seems fair, he reasons.

Emma stops by with Henry after school, sporting an engagement ring that makes David assume it’s alright to show Henry the finished collage in her presence. It turned out beautifully, of course, and Emma almost cries her eyes out when Henry shows it to her.

“My cheeks haven’t been this puffy since last night,” she says, half-laughing and half-sobbing.

“I’m glad that both of those are for good reasons,” David says, not sure if the pang in his chest is warmth or envy. Does he  _ want _ to marry Killian? Would Killian want to marry him? Sure, they’ve only been together a few months, but sometimes that’s all it takes to realize dating your best friend is the right idea, especially now that he’s feeling less like his feelings for Killian are something to keep to himself. “How’d it happen? If you don’t mind me being nosy.” Fair’s fair, after all.

Emma tells him that it had been under the apple tree, of course, and the moon had come out from behind the clouds to light up the world around them, like magic. “I think everyone gets one moment like that in their life,” she adds. “Where something so beautiful happens that you can’t believe how lucky you are to have seen it.”

David thinks of the fish; wonders if he and Killian have already had that moment. If so, at least they had it together.

“You and Kil should have a double date with us,” Emma says, while David’s still semi-far away in his own thoughts. “How about Wednesday night?” He agrees, and gives Emma the photo album to take home.

At the end of the day, he drives to the marina and waits for Killian to get back from his trip out. He can tell that Killian spots him well before they come into harbor from the way he hears a voice on the wind calling his name. It brings a smile to his face as he stands there, watching the  _ Jolliest Roger _ come in; watching the horizon as the sun sinks down, making sure no magical fish or whales or kraken follow in Killian’s wake.

It’s then he realizes that  _ of course _ he wants to marry Killian. Something catches in his throat, but he swallows it down.

…

On Tuesday, they go to Granny’s for breakfast. David runs into Henry again, this time eating pancakes with Regina, who flags the two boys to come eat with them in the booth that’s too large for two people instead of at their favorite table.

“Thank you for what you did,” she says as soon as they’ve scooted in beside Henry. “The collage is stunning; we’re going to have a frame custom-made for it and show it off at the wedding.”

“I take it Henry’s not in trouble for stealing the photo album, then?” David asks, smiling as the boy looks up from his stack of pancakes to give him the biggest grin possible.

Regina raises an eyebrow at Henry, who smiles sheepishly and goes back to his breakfast. Even if he wasn’t in trouble, there’s no way he avoided a lecture on the amorality of stealing with a mayor-mother like Regina. “We came to an agreement where we both learned a lesson, I think. No more stealing precious items from the house, and no more leaving precious secrets in places where my son my look, because he’s more perceptive than I realized.”

“Sometimes it’s worth breaking the rules in the name of love,” Killian says with a wink. Regina turns the same look on Killian, who holds steady.

“Hopefully that doesn’t include the rules of safety on the open ocean, you two,” she says after a moment of staring Killian down, eventually slipping back into her typical small smile. “And don’t stay up in Canada forever, boys. We have a wedding we’re hoping you’ll attend coming up.”

Before either of them can respond, Henry cuts in. “Are you two going on a trip so you can get engaged too?” 

David goes bright red, and Regina looks like she’s about to either apologize or tell Henry that the question was inappropriate, but then gets a very intrigued look on her face instead. “Actually, Ruby did say that she thought you two were eloping. Any comments, gentlemen?”

Killian saves David from having to stumble through a response by slinging an arm around his back and tugging him close. “I’m afraid that’s just a rumor, madame mayor. I think my charming first mate would be embarrassed if I married him before I divorced the sea.”

David wants to say that it isn’t true; that he’d be happy to accept that Killian had two loves as long as he was one of them. But Killian’s hand tightens on his hip, and David looks into his eyes, and he’s pretty sure he already knows.

…

After hauling in the morning catch, Killian spends most of Wednesday running back and forth between the grocer and the  _ Jolliest Roger _ , doing his best to stock her up with non-perishables (mostly cereal) and other trip necessities (mostly lube). He has to make four trips in total, having accidentally lost David’s list in the water and subsequently forgetting beer, travel deodorant, and spare batteries for the spare radio.

The beer is for David. The beer was forgotten in the first place because Killian had the unsubstantiated fear that the rum supplies on the  _ Jolliest Roger _ might be running low, and had stocked up on that instead.

If he’d thought about it, he would’ve asked to borrow David’s car this morning. But he didn’t, so he has no one to blame but himself when his arms are tired as he trudges on board the boat for the fourth time, burdened by six more bottles of rum and a plastic bag containing radio batteries. Having no one to blame but himself makes him feel like he deserves a drink, which is how he ends up sitting on the deck of the  _ Jolliest Roger _ watching the sunset with rum in his hand when David calls.

“Killian,” he says immediately. “Where the hell are you?”

And that makes Killian, slightly tipsy, pause for a moment. There’s only about two places in the entire town Killian is likely to be at any given moment: on his boat or in David’s—no, their—apartment. There’s a hidden third option, which is just With David, but he’s still sober enough to know that’s off the table, given who’s asking. “I’m on my boat,” he says after a moment. “Where the hell are you?”

“Sitting outside the restaurant we’re supposed to have dinner with Emma and Regina at in five minutes?” There’s a sigh on the other end of the phone, David mumbling something to himself that Killian doesn’t quite catch. And then: “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“I’ve had a busy day,” Killian says, thinking back on all the walking. “And rum. And I thought you weren’t serious when you told me about it this morning.”

“You thought I wasn’t serious when I said I was excited to go on our first public date together?”

And that strikes Killian a little hard, because he had  _ genuinely _ forgotten that David had said those words when talking to him this morning between all the kisses that were leaving him breathless. He blows out a breath, thinking. “Shouldn’t our first public date be just the two of us?”

David makes the same noise he always does when he’s shrugging, and Killian can see it through the phone. Small, slightly frustrated frown, but the noise is one of concession. “I guess so, if that’s the way you want it to be.”

“Come join me on the boat,” he urges. “I have something I want to show you.”

So David of course shows up, fifteen minutes later, wearing Killian’s favorite dark blue button-up shirt and a pair of slacks that draw all of Killian’s attention to his thighs. Killian greets him with a kiss, and David doesn’t even shy away from the rum breath, just taking his rightful spot at Killian’s side. “Thanks for coming.”

“Hey, to be honest I’d rather be out here with you anyway, even if we are spending the entire next week on a boat together.” He grabs a beer from Killian’s ice chest and clinks it against the rum bottle. Killian’s stomach twists, deeply in love. “What did you want to show me?”

“Just how happy I am,” Killian breathes out, barely a whisper. David gives him a bright smile back, hotter than the sun, and then Killian shows him what he looks like with his head between David’s thighs as well.

…

Graham comes into Prints Charming very early on Thursday morning, the first of many to surprise David with a visit. He makes small talk at first, asking David if he had any interest in redesigning the county sheriff’s website, but then quickly admits that the budget won’t cover that when David tries to get him to look at some of the digital work he’s done before.

“What, uh, are you doing here, then?”

“Well I’ve been working with Regina and Mary Margaret on this fireworks investigation,” he says, shrugging like it should’ve been obvious from the start. “And they mentioned that you and Kil were heading up to Canada for a bit.”

There’s a brief moment of intense fear where David thinks that Graham is trying to accuse them of fleeing the scene of the crime, like they would’ve had any responsibility for the fireworks in the school’s computer lab, and then he continues: “Kil made sure the boat was solid for a trip like that, yeah?”

And then David gets it. This is some sort of masculine bonding thing Graham’s trying to do, telling David that he’s figured out that he’s fucking Killian and that he’s cool with it. Or, more likely, that someone blabbed to him and then mentioned that they weren’t going around telling everybody and now he feels bad for knowing. It’s sweet, if horrifyingly awkward in some ways. David just hopes he doesn’t get lectured on reporting hate crimes to Graham directly, like some sort of after-school special. 

“Yeah, of course,” he says, a lot more smoothly than he anticipated. “Thanks for checking, Graham.” And that lets the sheriff know that David’s capable of reading through the lines of the visit, and so Graham departs shortly after with a note that he hopes they enjoy themselves.

But he’s followed shortly after by Ruby, Dorothy in tow, who tells David that his fliers did  _ work _ and now the roller derby club has twelve other girls from nearby towns in it, along with Ruby’s original crew of six. “It’s like they were a siren call to every lesbian in the county,” she says, shameless grin on her face. David’s not sure how he feels about  _ that _ comparison, but he lets it slide. “Also, Granny asked me to give you these.”

It’s a plastic container of cookies—Killian’s favorite ones, actually—and David can’t help but steal his hand in and take one as soon as Ruby leaves. But it’s like a domino effect of people, because as soon as the cookie’s in his mouth the bell above the door jingles once more. David finds himself slowly and discreetly chewing on the cookie while Mr. Gold stands fifteen feet away from the counter, maintaining the most awkward eye contact of David’s life, and Belle scoots from display to display, making comments to nobody but herself.

Belle and David then have a secret conversation about him designing an advertisement for Gold’s pawn shop once he gets back, and then when he glances up again Doctor Whale is standing at the counter too, laying a bunch of pamphlets about seasickness in front of him. “You may think you don’t need these, but you’ll be kicking yourself if you run into the choppy waters of a storm and feeling miserable for your entire vacation. There are some tried and true remedies in there.” And then he’s out of the store without another word.

It’s quiet at this point, closer to lunchtime, and David neatly avoids having a panic attack about all of the people who came into his story and did everything but flat out tell him they know about his trip, and by extension his relationship. They came to see him because they were trying to support him, and were happy for him. If he didn’t know any better, he might say that his newly semi-publicized romance with Killian was stealing a little bit of the thunder of Emma and Regina’s engagement.

Speaking of that, Killian finds himself cornered by Emma in the Storybrooke marina at four, when he’s about to start walking over to Prints Charming to spend the rest of the evening with David. She’s carrying with her a black bottle of rum, holding it out to Killian like a peace offering. “Kraken,” he says, reading the label. “Expensive stuff. Never drank it myself.”

“Someone gave it to Regina when she first became mayor, and it’s just been sitting in our kitchen ever since. We were looking for the right time to give it to you. Shame you couldn’t make it to dinner last night,” she says, arms crossed but smiling. “Even more of a shame that you convinced David to ditch too. I think the three of us would’ve had a great time.”

“Does Regina know you want to proposition my boyfriend for a threesome?” Killian asks, grin growing when Emma rolls her eyes at him. 

“It’s good to see you two together. People all around town have been wondering when it was going to happen. Or so sayeth both Mary Margaret and our great mayor. You know how they both are.” Killian nods; he likes the way Emma doesn’t treat everything as seriously as some of his other friends do. “Actually, though, speaking of that, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“Oh I’m  _ delighted _ to hear why that is.”

“About five years ago, Regina and I made a bet on whether or not you two would hook up before one of you turned thirty.”

“And you feel stiffed because Regina had more faith my incredible attractiveness than you did?”

Emma snorts, blatantly laughing at him. “More like Regina knew David could charm the pants off of anyone he wanted, even a salty dog like yourself. If you’d lasted just a few more months, I would’ve been fifty bucks richer.”

“Yeah, well,” Killian says, shine in his eyes. “Give Regina my thanks for the rum. Can’t say I’m sorry that you lost.”

//

Just before five on Friday afternoon, fifteen minutes before David plans to lock up Prints Charming for the entire week that follows, Mary Margaret walks into the store. “Been seeing you often, recently,” he says, though he’s grateful for the distraction from twiddling his thumbs in agony as he watches the clock. “You’re my favorite customer who never buys anything from me.”

“Fortunately for me I get to print all my classroom materials at the school, or you’d be seeing even more of me.” She’s hauling beside herself a massive paper gift bag, white and completely nondescript. She hides it behind her back when she comes to stand at the counter, stopping David from peering inside. “I take it you’re spending the evening with Kil before you boys head off tomorrow?”

David nods, smiling but also thinking about how miserable he’s gonna feel in twelve hours, already up and on the boat before sunrise. “He should be here any minute to take me for a romantic evening of eating a slice of pizza and going to bed at nine so that I’m, quote: ‘not cranky on the boat.’”

“The  _ thrilling _ life of a high sea adventurer,” Mary Margaret laughs. “You could do a lot worse though. Mind if I keep you company until he shows up? The kids have their end-of-year play next week and you can hear them rehearsing anywhere in the school. It was too much for me on a Friday afternoon.”

“If I say you can stay, do I get to learn what’s in that bag?”

She grins, setting it down but keeping it behind her knees out of David’s view. “Maybe. I’ll give you three guesses.”

His first guess is an engagement present for Emma and Regina, but she shakes her head and tells him that she already gave them a new coffee machine and the recipe for her cinnamon hot chocolate that Emma can’t get enough of. This, in turn, makes David realize that he should probably get them something as well, but alas, he’ll be at sea for the next nine days.

“I’m sure they’ll understand,” Mary Margaret says. David thinks about the bottle of rum that Emma gifted to Killian last night and kicks himself for not thinking of doing something sooner, especially after they both ditched the double date. “Second guess?”

David goes more practical for the second guess. “Arts and crafts supplies for the kids to work on fun projects for the last week of school?” 

“Would’ve left them  _ at _ the school if that were the case, don’t you think?”

“Well maybe you needed to do some cathartic shopping after having to listen to the kids singing camp songs all afternoon and haven’t gotten the chance to drop them off yet.” Mary Margaret shrugs, leaving David with his last guess. “Alright. Well, is it for me?”

“I think it’s cheating if you get to play Twenty Questions before you take your last guess, but sure. Yes, there’s a reason I have it with me right now.” David furrows his brow and looks pensive, thinking hard for a moment but then finding his eyes drifting back to the wall clock, watching it count down the moments until he can start his vacation. “God, I know  _ that _ look well.”

“I bet you do,” David laughs. “Summer’s just around the corner.”

And Killian is just around the corner too, because the bell above the door jingles in greeting right as David’s about to take his third incorrect guess at the contents of Mary Margaret’s gift bag. “Good afternoon, loves. Thought I’d swing by and steal David away a few minutes early, but it seems as though you have him working to the bone until the very last minute, Mary Margaret. No wonder you became a teacher.”

“She’s got a gift for me but she won’t tell me what it is.” David draws his lips together and gives a half-pout, hoping to get some pity, but Killian just laughs. “Trip’s postponed until I figure it out, Kil. You better help.”

“Actually,” Mary Margaret swoops in, picking up the bag and gesturing for Killian to round the counter and stand next to David. “Now that Kil’s here, I can just show you.”

She pulls from the bag a folded-up blue paper rectangle, setting it down on one end of the counter and unravelling it to the other side, so that it reveals a massive banner that reads “Welcome home, Killian and David!” in hand-printed bubble letters. Taking up the rest of the space on the banner is the scribbled signature of practically everyone in town—they even spot Henry’s name with a drawing of a smiling sun, nestled between Regina and Emma’s signatures. At the very bottom, beneath Ruby’s signature and doodle of a wolf, are more bubble letters: “From your friends in Storybrooke.”

“You know,” Killian says, glancing multiple times between David, swallowing hard, and Mary Margaret, beaming with joy. “I think this was supposed to be given to us  _ after _ we went on the trip.”

Mary Margaret exhales deeply, like Killian just  _ doesn’t get it _ , and maybe he doesn’t. Maybe it’s better that he’s more a man of the water if this is what passes for logic in the rest of Storybrooke. “It was, but then after everyone signed it I just couldn’t wait. I wanted you two to have a reason to look forward to coming back here.”

“Everyone’s acting like we’re fleeing to Canada for good,” David laughs, wiping any sign of forming tears from his eyes. “Ruby started a rumor that we’re eloping, then half the town comes to wish me well yesterday, and now this. You do know we’ll only be gone for a week, right?”

“Well Killian’s so in love with the ocean that we thought he might be able to convince you to live on the boat forever.” She’s laughing too now, joy filling the entire shop. “Just something to tug at your heartstrings and make you remember all your friends.”

“Probably should’ve put his name first then,” Killian says, tapping the letters that spell out his own name. “All this does is inflate my ego.”

“Making you insufferable is probably a good way to get me to come back too,” David says, playfully shoving at Killian, who intercepts it and pulls him close instead, arms interlocking around each other’s back. “We’ll leave it here, on the counter, so that it’s the first thing I see when I come back into work.”

Mary Margaret nods. “Then I guess it’s time for you two old men to get to bed. I hear you have an early morning tomorrow.”

“That we do,” Killian says, and the three of them head outside. David locks up, Mary Margaret says her goodbyes, and Killian grabs David’s hand and keeps hold of it as they walk towards the center of town.

Killian gives David free rein over their direction, happy to just walk with him and hold his hand, neither of them concerning themselves with who sees. So they end up grabbing sandwiches and making for the park. David eats three-fourths of his sandwich and scatters the rest for the birds, while Killian has to fend off a particularly large pigeon who catches on to the idea that he’s not about to do the same.

The park is lovely. There’s shade, the sound of laughter from all around them as families enjoy the start of their weekend together, and late-spring is still fending off summer, leaving everything crisp and green before the heat comes. On three separate occasions, someone walks by with their dog who wants to come over to visit the two of them because their hands smell like cold cut sandwiches, and at one point Killian gets slobber all over his face.

“I’d still kiss you,” David admits, once the dog is gone and Killian’s trying to wipe himself down with a napkin. And that, he knows, is what love is about.

It’s also just wonderful being there, the two of them, and they both smile, simultaneously thinking about how good it’s going to be out on the water for a week with the person they love. “What a great view,” David sighs happily, leaning against Killian in the shade of a maple tree. They’re watching the dog that slobbered all over Killian play fetch with a frisbee thrown by his owner’s daughter.

“Almost as good as the view out on the water,” Killian says, but it’s all bluff. If this was the view that David wanted for the rest of his life, Killian’s pretty sure he couldn’t deny him it. David just nods, head against Killian’s shoulder, and a thought comes to him. “You know, I’m really glad that I invited you to come to Nova Scotia with me. I’m even happier that you said yes, of course, but…” he trails off.

“Yeah?” David asks, lifting his head up and nudging Killian’s thigh with his knee. “Go on.”

“When we first started dating, and you told me you wanted it to be secret, I thought at first that you were embarrassed of me.”

“Kil—” David starts to say, squeezing his hand.

“Hold on, love. I’m going somewhere with this, don’t worry. So then we talked about it more and I knew you were just uncomfortable, and I found myself fine with that.” Killian nods here, as if the words are just coming out of nowhere and he finds himself agreeing with them. “I figured if you were hesitant to really date me, then I’d get to keep more of my freedom, which is when I got the idea to have one last grand adventure before I turn thirty, you know? But here we are, public and still with the same amount of freedom we had before.”

“And less insecurity,” David adds, eliciting a laugh from Killian. 

“And maybe,” Killian starts, sucking in a breath of air for courage, “maybe the trip won’t be my last grand adventure, because I’ve already started another one with you.”

Killian’s barely finished getting the words out before David’s mouth is on his, scorching hot and powerful, pushing Killian back into the maple tree as he straddles one of his legs. The David Nolan of right-here, right-now is suddenly very pro-romance, especially regarding public displays of affection. Killian kisses back, grabbing at the collar of David’s shirt and keeping them pressed together while he lets David’s tongue suppress his own.

The kiss lasts at least a minute before David pulls away slowly, a desperate look in his eyes. Killian breathes hard. “As much fun as public sex with you would be, I think we’d miss our trip if we made Graham arrest us for it.”

“Then you better take me home, captain.” Killian feels himself grow hard at the name  _ and _ feels David’s erection against his thigh, already hard. “I want you to fuck me hard,” he adds, and that’s all it takes for Killian to find the power to stand up, pushing back against the maple tree and bringing David with him, keeping hold of his hand and sprint-walking back to the car.

The drive back is painstakingly slow, seeming to last forever even though it’s really only five blocks to the apartment complex. They charge up to the third floor, thankfully completely vacant, though Killian reckons that Santa could’ve been waiting for them outside of Robin’s apartment and they still would’ve just barreled past him and into their own.

David gropes him through his pants as Killian steers him backwards through the living room and into the bedroom, lifting David’s shirt over his head and kicking the bedroom door behind him simultaneously. The shirt gets tossed aside and David’s mouth is back on his immediately, hungry for more as Killian deftly unbuttons and unzips David’s jeans, leaving them pooling around his ankles. His erection is more than noticeable in his boxers, David gasping and pressing into Killian hard when he palms it.

Killian walks him backwards so that David ends up sitting on the bed in his boxers and looking up at him desperately, and then he backs up a few feet and begins to strip. He keeps eye contact with David at all times, watching the way his body shakes and his breath grows heavy as Killian’s vest and shirt come off. He takes his sweet time unbuttoning his own pants, watching the way that David’s eyes stay fixed to his crotch as he slides out of them, and then out of his boxers.

He’s standing naked in front of David now, who quickly takes the cue. He finally shucks his own boxers off and is on his knees in front of Killian in the same half-second, one hand around the middle of Killian’s cock and the other cupping his balls. He takes Killian’s head into his mouth and works his cock with his hand for a moment before moving it to grab Killian’s ass and opening his mouth for more of Killian to push in. David’s blowjobs are always like this, leaving Killian weak at the knees instantly, which is why most of the time Killian ends up laying down before he gets one. But he holds strong as pleasure swims through his body, feeling his dick throb and push against the top of David’s mouth until he’s being deepthroated entirely.

David pulls off him in a quick motion and Killian feels as if he’s been struck by lightning, trying to suck air into his lungs as his whole body burns with sensation. He trembles. David sees it, and gently guides Killian to the edge of the bed to sit before putting his mouth back onto Killian’s balls, taking one and then the other and then both into his mouth. Killian loves the way his dick rests on David’s cheek when he’s getting his balls licked. It’s his second most frequent mental image of David that he masturbates too, after the way David looks when getting fucked deep.

“You’re so fucking hot, love,” Killian gasps out as David takes his cock in his mouth again, which causes him to moan  _ again _ as he watches David blow him with a downright dirty smile on his face. It’s slick and fast, and Killian can see the trail of saliva clinging to David’s mouth when he pulls away from the blowjob, rising to kiss Killian on the edge of the bed, ready for the next act.

“Show me how hot I am,” he whispers, voice deep and full of need. Killian’s blood runs cold as he tugs David onto the bed and beneath him, continuing the kiss by having David arch his back up to follow Killian as he hovers over him, legs spread between his crotch. Killian eventually pushes David back down into his prone state, listening to him breathe in hungrily and breathe out desperately.

The lube is where they always leave it, and Killian goes about prepping David. He bottoms more frequently, and is quicker to open up than Killian is, two fingers practically just a formality as Killian spreads them quickly, getting the third in and really beginning to work David’s hole. David’s ready and willing, ass relaxed and accepting of Killian’s fingers but also flexing and tightening around them in early pleasure, desperate for Killian’s cock to follow them. 

He doesn’t have to wait long, as Killian isn’t strong enough to sit there and tease David with his fingers when his own cock is swelling in its own desperation. He wants badly to be inside of David, and David wants badly for Killian to be inside of him, so he obliges. David’s whispering unintelligible words when Killian lines up and starts to push his cock inside, bending down to kiss him as David arches up for it. Killian sweeps his arms under David’s, which end up around his shoulders, completely lost in each other by the time Killian’s only halfway inside.

Killian feels the gasp in David’s mouth when he does bottom out, rubbing against his prostate and even a little deeper. David starts moaning quickly, so much so that it becomes difficult to kiss him with his mouth just hanging open, grabbing desperately at Killian’s back and his own cock as Killian pounds into him over and over. They’re both burning under each other’s touch, sweaty and hard as steel. David emits the hottest groan Killian’s ever heard at one point, digging his fingers into his back and trying to keep him there, so Killian steadies himself and fucks into him again, doing his best to hit the same spot and succeeding if the moans are anything to go by.

Killian comes first again, but there’s mere seconds between them as David tightens around Killian’s cock and then grabs desperately for his own as he feels Killian’s load shoot inside of him. David shoots his own load all over his chest, which Killian quickly gets covered in as he pulls out of David’s ass and lies on top of him, another blazing kiss already in action.

“ _ That’s _ how hot you are, love.”

David reaches between their bodies and tugs on Killian’s cock playfully, eyes heavy and grin wide.

//

The sun hasn’t even broken the horizon when Killian loosens the final knot attaching the  _ Jolliest Roger _ to the Storybrooke marina and pulling up her anchor. David sits in the captain’s chair, swathed in a blanket and keeping an iron grip on his travel mug of coffee. It’s not cold so much as he’s just feeling sorry for himself, considering the horrendous hour and the state that Killian put his entire body into the night before. He looks adorable though, exhaustion on his face but still watching Killian like the entire world revolves around him.

Maybe it’s because Killian got him the coffee, but maybe it’s love too.

“You can sleep if you’d prefer,” Killian says softly, coming to stand by the captain’s chair and letting David rest his head on his shoulder. “For a little bit, anyway, while I get us out into the gulf.”

Which is how David ends up back asleep, coffee mug carefully set aside and with Killian standing diligently next to the captain’s chair for the next half hour so that David has a shoulder-shaped pillow to lean on. Killian keeps a vigilant watch on the depth charts and the nautical map spread out in front of him, setting up the perfect course for their day’s journey to Nova Scotia. Dawn breaks half an hour later, when they’re getting close to the lighthouse that acts as a boundary between the Storybrooke Sound and the Gulf of Maine, and David huffs out a breath, unable to stay asleep with the sun filtering onto his face.

There’s a sudden loud bang and crackle behind them, jarring David upright and causing Killian to spin instantly backwards, looking at the Storybrooke marina in the far distance. The sun is still creeping up, leaving parts of the town cast in shadow, but they both can see the unmistakable lights of fireworks bursting in the sky, somewhere above the harbor. 

“It’s still May, right?” David says cautiously, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Or did I fall under some fairytale curse and sleep until July fourth?”

“No, those are definitely… random fireworks,” Killian says back, brow furrowed as he tries to figure out their source. They continue to pop for several minutes, forming familiar shapes and patterns in the sky, only disappearing once the sun has completely reclaimed the sky above Storybrooke. “Do you think they were for us?”

David takes a long swig of his coffee, shrugging. “Our friends like us enough to sign a banner welcoming us back, but do they like us enough to wake the entire town at dawn with a fireworks display? I mean, we’ll be back in a week. That seems like overkill.”

“I don’t know if  _ anybody _ likes someone enough to do that.” Killian looks back at David, comfortable as can be in the captain’s chair, looking at him a little smugly. “Present company excluded.”

“Should we call Graham before we get too far away? It could be the same punks who set them off inside the school.” And it’s a good thought, sure, but for some reason neither of them can pick up any sort of cell signal even though they definitely should still be in range of the towers. “Guess we’d have to turn around then,” David frowns.

“We’ll email him when we get to Yarmouth to see what it was about,” Killian says, massaging David’s shoulders a little. Other than the fireworks, it’s an uneventful start to the trip. David takes another hour to fully wake up, and Killian passes it by dividing his attention evenly between steering the  _ Jolliest Roger _ and placing kisses along David’s jaw until his stomach growls and they decide to get cereal.

They have to eat it dry, considering the boat doesn’t have a fridge to keep the milk in, but this early in the morning it’s more about not dying of starvation at sea than anything else. Killian double-checks all his various instruments for a moment and, upon deciding that it’s safe to keep sailing in their current direction for at least a little bit, joins David at the bench on the bow of the ship. They sit sideways to the water, looking at each other, cereal bowls between them. It’s peaceful.

For a few moments anyway, and then the ocean in front of them glows.

“What the fuck,” David says, staring, but Killian is already back on his feet, bowl clanging to the deck as he jumps into the captain’s chair and slows the  _ Jolliest Roger _ down.

“It’s the mermaids,” he says, knowing how ridiculous it is to say out loud. But also, it’s  _ true _ . The patch of the ocean that lights up mirrors the scene from before: a five by five square, illuminated and glowing in the still early sunlight by a power beyond just normal floodlights. He goes back over to the port side of the boat, where David is already peering down.

Everything’s visible one hundred feet down once again. He sees the arena, same as it was a few days before except empty this time. They hear a cry of alarm from below, and then some undersea, barely intelligible voice screams “ _ Lights OUT! _ ” and the shining patch disappears as quickly as it came. 

“Alright,” David says, astounded. Killian is shaking with some mixture of adrenaline, joy, and fearful anticipation, watching the water carefully for any sign of Crocodile. “Between that and the fish, I gotta say I understand why you think the ocean’s so wonderful.”

He says it so offhandedly that Killian can’t help but laugh. “We didn’t really see anything,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound too cheerful about it.

“Mermaids might be real, Kil.” As if Killian wouldn’t be the first to know that they did. But the look on his face says that he’s either forgotten or not worries about whether or not any other part of Killian’s dream experience might be true, so Killian lets him have it.

He keeps a cautious watch, however, and doesn’t leave the captain’s seat for some time once he has the boat cruising again.

“Where are we?” David asks, a little over an hour later, when they’re deep in the waters of the Gulf of Maine. No sign of whales or other sea monsters or anything else out of the ordinary in that time, just a slightly tense Killian and a David that can’t help but keep scanning the waters beneath the boat.

“Somewhere between Monhegan and Matinicus.” Killian’s reply is immediate, having been studying the map almost as thoroughly as he was searching the waters. Looking for alternate routes they could take if anything even vaguely suspicious began happening. Fortunately, the open ocean is just one vast network of alternate routes. Crocodile or whatever else lurks out there couldn’t swim in all of them.

“A good captain knows all islands,” David says from his spot on the bow, giving Killian a smile. He’s echoing a sentiment that Killian himself has said before, somewhere, on one of their first trips out together he thinks. The smile causes him to relax, sighing deeply as he tries to get comfortable in the captain’s chair.

And for a moment he confuses himself, because once he’s stopped sighing he can still hear the sound of it all around him. Then he sees the waves start to get choppy, spraying seafoam on the deck and causing David to hop back to avoid getting soaked, and he realizes the sound is not a sigh but the noise of a strong wind picking up. In the distance, something that sounds like thunder. 

Killian stiffens in the chair and begins fiddling with the nav system on the boat, rerouting them, but then something beyond the normal scope of ‘unusual’ on the Gulf of Maine happens. The wind seems to start directing the boat as if it had sails, and as if the rudder was broken, keeping them on their current trajectory. Killian tries not to freak out, noting that the positive is that there’s no emerging sea demon within sight, but beckons David into the cockpit just to be safe.

“Strong wind,” David says, and Killian isn’t sure if he’s just trying to be calm or doesn’t realize exactly how strong the wind is. He covers the unresponsive nav system with the nautical chart and nods, wrapping an arm around David and gripping the side of the cockpit with the other, bracing himself. 

The ocean has a mind of its own. He’s always known that, ever since the very first time he took the original  _ Jolly Roger _ out on the water. So it both surprises and doesn’t surprise him when the wind dies down after just a few minutes and the boat comes back under his control. He exhales as evenly as possible so as to not show David he was… concerned.

“What’s that in the distance?” David asks suddenly, pointing. Killian’s almost terrified to look, but he grits his teeth and does so.

It’s not any sort of symbol of doom as he might’ve expected, but instead appears to be two large, red wood ships, styled in an old colonial fashion to look like pirate ships. They seem to be sailing around each other slowly, and every minute or so a crack of noise sounds from one of them and confetti is launched into the water from a cannon on the deck. The source of the distant thunder, perhaps? There were certainly less obvious answers to things in the world, such as how magic fish and mermaids exist.

“You got my binoculars?” Killian asks, hand outstretched. David had been using them earlier, shortly after the mermaid semi-encounter, and he hands them back. “Okay, uh, let’s see what’s going on here.”

What’s going on there is unusual, but no more so than anything else. In fact it’s probably the most normal thing they’ve seen all day, because at least the people on board the two pirate ships are human. They don’t actually both appear to be pirates: one group  _ definitely _ is, even being led by a man in a stylish black coat with a hook for a hand; the other holds a squad of men in regal attire, led by a man in an ornate gold crown that Killian’s definitely seen somewhere before. On the ship with the pirates is another man in regal attire that matches the clothes of the royal-ship’s leader, though he walks free and easy at the hooked pirate’s side.

“That doesn’t really explain what’s going on,” David says after Killian describes all this to him, the sound of a few confetti cannons going off in the background.

“I think the royal on the pirate ship is some sort of prince,” Killian explains, continuing to look upon the scene. “And he went willingly with the pirate, but the royal crew wants him back, so they’re trying to fight the pirates? Doesn’t seem too smart to me. I’d bet money on those pirates any day.”

“Holy shit,” David mutters, causing Killian to drop the binoculars and turn to him, curious look on his face. “We’re watching some sort of gay LARP.”

And that’s  _ true _ , and it becomes instantly hilarious to both of them. Here they are, sailing off to Canada together, being completely upstaged in romance by people who were putting on some sort of semi-erotic reenactment that involved hiring two pirate ships and two sailor crews. “What a day,” Killian says, feeling the stress finally leave him in laughter. “And we’re only a third of the way there.”

“Can you promise our time in Nova Scotia will be this exciting?”

And hopefully a little less stressful, Killian thinks, but he nods, grabbing David and kissing him suddenly. “Sorry, a little aroused watching that pirate and prince get together.”

“I should’ve known you have a pirate fetish,” David teases, slipping one hand under Killian’s shirt. “You shudder whenever I call you captain.”

“Before I met you, I used to have to stand in the Captain Morgan pose if I wanted to jerk off.” Killian loves the way David laughs, one hand still under his shirt and pressing at the firmness of his chest.

And that’s how it is for them. Far beneath the surface of the waves, of the  _ Jolliest Roger _ , whatever is supposed to stay sleeping until the end of the world remains in its slumber this time. There are no purple tentacles reaching up to tear them away from what they’ve found. A text—“You have service out here?”—comes through from Mary Margaret. It’s a picture of her and Robin’s Kraken.

The bright yellow eye of the midday sun warms them through as they stand on the bow of the ship, sailing across the Gulf of Maine, hands entwined.


End file.
